


Stranger in a Strange Land

by SonsOfBelial



Category: EXO (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Bottom Byun Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun is a Little Shit, Chanyeol is a King, F/M, I'm really selling it here, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Oh Sehun is a Little Shit, Post-War, Rebellion, Very Upsetting Scenes, War, complete trash, debatable plot tbh, in a good way, it's like futuristic dystopian kingdom, no really Oh Sehun is a nightmare, originally porn without plot that I tried to give plot, past Hunhan - Freeform, read me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonsOfBelial/pseuds/SonsOfBelial
Summary: “You could have died a hero... but you wanted to go and try another method of negotiation. And all you did was change my mind. Now you won’t get to be a martyr for your people. Now you get something much better - you get to be mine.”Dystopian Kingdom AU.





	1. Angel or Demon?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello darlings, I've been writing this one for a while now, mostly for myself and for my friends, but as I'm writing thousands of words I figured I'd post it as well, and make you privy to the trash pile that it is.
> 
> Like with all my fics, it might not always make sense, and there will be very dark and upsetting things at times, but amidst that there will be good sexual tension, which we all like, no?
> 
> As always, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome and encouraged. This is the first EXO fic I've written, I'm usually tucked up in BTS' arse, so this has been GREAT fun for me. Such amazing people to write. For context you absolutely don't need, Baekhyun is my bias! 
> 
> And without further ado, or me rambling on, here... we... go...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanyeol doesn't care much for Sehun's desire to play games with the rebellion, but will that change when he meets the man behind it all?

“So should I?”

“Did I fucking ask you to?” 

A playful smile spread over his right hand’s face, and he audibly voiced his annoyance in the form of a soft tut. Sehun was a good man to have at your shoulder. Young enough to be underestimated by some, handsome enough to be intimidating to others, and fiercely loyal. The mischief was also welcome entertainment, but as always, it was a double-edged sword. 

“Stay away from them,” he reiterated, his voice deep, and low, “I’ve no idea why you’d want to run a reckless kamikaze attack on them anyway-”

“The one I told you about, the pretty one...” said Sehun, his face tilting up to look to the ceiling, “I want to see him again, Chanyeol…”

Chanyeol exhaled slowly, looking over to his dark-haired friend with a look of pitiful incredulity. “Since when did you and I get hung up on anyone? He’s the enemy, Hunnie.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” laughed Sehun, a bitter tone to his voice, “I thought you’d encourage it.”

“And why would I do that?”

Sehun looked at him, ever-intense in his gaze, before rising up from the black leather chair, adjusting the sleeves of his blazer lightly. “You and I have all but ruled the world for years now,” he voiced softly, “It’s boring, Chanyeol, being unchallenged. We sit around fucking, and drinking, and smoking, and ruling, and it’s boring. And finally, a group amasses to rebel against us, ballsy enough to come to our very home city, and as though that wasn’t exciting enough, one of them is unfathomably beautiful to me. And you want to what… be careful?”

Chanyeol’s expression didn’t change, and he looked over towards the fireplace, watching the flames dance beautifully. “We didn’t come all this way, and work this hard just to throw it all away on boredom, Sehun. We forfeited the right to act on such things when we decided we wanted to take the world.”

“But what do you do when you hold the world you asked for?” asked Sehun, “Don’t you ever think about it?”

“I never stop thinking about it,” said Chanyeol, a slight bite in his voice, “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, Sehun. Promise me. I’d burn our entire great world to the ground before I let you get yourself killed.” 

“I never thought you’d be one to underestimate me,” laughed Sehun, “I’m not going to die. The whole reason I even looked at him twice is because I trust you will beat them, when the time comes. When their rebellion inevitably gets old. We all trust you, Chanyeol. You’re the Man Who Ruled The World.”

“Some people call me The Man Who Sold The World,” he chuckled softly.

“You haven’t given it to anyone,” said Sehun, “So I wouldn’t worry about illogic, eh? Even these rebels will fall to you eventually. Everyone does, in the end.”

Chanyeol eyed the tattoo inked across Sehun’s neck as the light from the fire illuminated it. **MONSTER** it read. Back when they had just begun, that is what the masses had called Chanyeol’s Sehun, and he had scrawled it across his neck unhesitatingly. Because if the world wanted him to be that, he would. He would do it for them.

“I led you into this life,” said Chanyeol softly, “And now you are bored. That’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Sehun with a smirk, “This game is going to be fun, can’t you tell?”

“I’m sure Yixing is going to be thrilled when he-

“Oh Yixing has seen the kid too,” chuckled Sheun, “Trust me, he’s entirely game. When we crush the rebels, you will let us keep him - won’t you?”

“I promised you the world, didn’t I, brother?” 

Sehun smiled, and despite fierce features, it was entirely endearing to Chanyeol. “Then I’ll call in Junmyeon and Kyungsoo. We should start building our strategy today, shouldn’t we?”

“Why today?” asked Chanyeol, blinking.

“Oh,” said Sehun, mirroring his expression, “I forgot why I even came. Here, their leader wants to call for a meeting with you.”

Sehun reaches into the pocket of his too-tight black jeans, handing him a grey card. Chanyeol opened it, quirking a brow as he read over the pretty scrawl.

~

_King Park,_

_I think it is time we met, face to face. No ulterior motives, no weapons, just you, me and a compromise._

_If you accept my proposal, meet me at the place you used to work, at 11pm tomorrow night. The last place you were human._

_Love and hugs,  
Taeyang xo_

~

As he finishes the letter, he looked up slowly to Sehun, who smirked. “He’s not really called Taeyang - that’s what his people call him. They say he is the Sun itself.”

“Love and hugs?”

“Clearly he’s clever,” tutted Sehun, “He’s doing what I do, playing cute.” 

“He wants to negotiate…” Suddenly, Chanyeol found himself chuckling. “Well, I’ll bite. He won’t move me a single budge, but he’s right - it is time we meet. Have you seen him?”

Sehun shook his head. “Nope. Like you, he doesn’t fight with his foot soldiers.”

“I did once upon a time,” replied Chanyeol.

“When it mattered,” agreed Sehun, “Which it doesn’t anymore. No clue as to what his excuse is. Why people would follow a man who doesn’t even fight for them…”

“Are we really that bad?” wondered Chanyeol idly.

Sehun laughed, before pointing to his tattoo. “The world turned us into monsters, we didn’t do it to ourselves,” he countered, “It’s no less than it deserves. I’ll see you later.”

He turned the card over in his hands, thinking for a moment, before his eyes widened. He looked up again, but Sehun was gone now. Still, something struck him as rather odd. 

How had this Sun of the Rebels known where he had worked when he was younger?

 

~

 

Chanyeol had spent most of the remaining hours in the day sat idly with Kyungsoo and Junmyeon, making sure all security measures had been implemented. Kyungsoo was, and always had been, a military genius. The small, soft-spoken man never once had panicked in the face of worse odds, and had the mind of a literal chess piece. Junmyeon on the other hand, was good with people. With public speaking, and television appearances. With visiting hospitals, and handing out food, and being the perfect General Prince Charming the world adored. The world would see these rebels however he told them to - weak, evil, chaos mongerers. Out to destroy the kind King Chanyeol and plunge them all into anarchy. 

Both of them geniuses in their own right, and both of them trusting of Chanyeol completely. The same Chanyeol who had walked into every institution in the world and took it for his own.

Their strategy was forming perfectly, when Sehun and Yixing arrived, all puckish smiles and excitement over the impending battle. Sehun and Yixing were soldiers, before anything else, and there hadn’t been need for raised arms since the world had accepted defeat.

“So,” began Yixing, a grin on his face as he dropped down into Sehun’s lap, “Are you going to meet the Sun?”

“I am,” confirmed Chanyeol calmly.

“You aren’t worried it’s a trap?” laughed Yixing.

“There is no no-man’s land in this world,” said Chanyeol, “Everything is ours. He’s on my territory no matter where he summons me. Besides, I haven’t been back to the casino in years.”

“Used to deal cards…” chuckled Junmyeon.

“Learned a lot from card games,” allowed Chanyeol, “Learned a lot about gambling. Every war is a gamble.”

“Well, you’d better get going,” sighed Yixing, “Are you taking Sehun?”

“Always,” said Chanyeol immediately, “Come on, Hun.”

“We’re already 40 minutes late,” whined Sehun, pressing lips to Yixing’s collarbone softly.

“A King arrives precisely when he means to.”

“If the King of the entire world walks around quoting Julie Andrews, should I be worried?” asked Kyungsoo.

Chanyeol snickered as he left the room, Sehun loping after him.

 

~

 

As they pulled up to the casino, Chanyeol felt a wave of nostalgia. It seemed several lifetimes ago since he’d been here… The door of the limousine opened, and he stepped out, vibrant red hair flashing under the light of the street. Sehun was dressed impeccably as usual, but Chanyeol’s attire was entirely different. Whilst he, too, wore a shirt, he wore over the top a black hoodie, his appearance seemingly casual. It made no difference whatsoever what Park Chanyeol wore, people looked at him in awe either way. 

“Your Highness!” 

The bouncers rushed forward, ushering the pair of them inside before anyone else could see, and he calmly ordered them not to let another soul through the doors as he walked the familiar halls of the place he’d once called home.

“Your Highness?” 

He turned his head, round eyes falling on the absolutely stunning woman behind the reception desk, and Sehun passed him, approaching her with a practised smile on his face.

“Hello, dove,” he greeted, “You still have to sign in here, yes?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” she replied quickly.

“Then can you find us the current location of one, Taeyang?” he inquired.

She flustered to do that immediately, before smiling. “Ah, yes, he’s in a private room upstairs. It says here he was expecting a visitor, but the stress is on one visitor.”

Sehun looked back to Chanyeol with an arched brow, and Chanyeol merely blinked. “Then I suppose we’re defying his expectations today. If you would show us the way, please.”

The woman was around the desk in an instant, gesturing for them to follow her lead. Chanyeol wasn’t worried, or panicked, merely curious. Such feelings of adrenaline were as nostalgic as this building was. Like a memory. He wondered idly if that was how gods felt.

As he passed a dumbstruck waiter, he plucked the bottle of whisky from his tray, opening it and taking a swig, before holding it out to Sehun, who accepted it without a second thought. When they arrived at the private room, Chanyeol gestured for the woman to go, which she did so, and without knocking he stepped inside, Sehun swinging the whisky as he followed.

Red velvet was something he’d always associated with this casino, with casinos in general, but this room was _blue_. Black leather, and blue lights, and he looked it over with mild distaste. The room was more like a suite, decked out with a bed, and couches, and a poker table. Chanyeol stepped further into the room, saying nothing for the moment.

“You were told to come alone.”

He turned his head to find his eyes falling upon a tall man with a face that seemed to be cut from marble. All black suit, silver hair, a jawline to kill. Chanyeol could not deny the man’s beauty. He’d never himself favoured men much, with the exception of that one time with Kyungsoo both of them had agreed to forget, but he imagined if he did, it would be for a man like this.

“Ah,” said Chanyeol softly, “You see, I have a crown that says I can do whatever I want. You must be Taeyang.”

“Looks like both of us have issues with sticking to the rules…”

His head snapped to the side as the bathroom door opened, and he watched as another man entered the room. Black suit, black hair, a surprisingly slender frame. The man was almost dainty, his features pretty, especially given the man’s eye makeup, and upon his lip sat a silver ring that was attached to a chain on his blazer. Out of context, Chanyeol would have just thought him a downtown twink, but there was an air about him, a look in his eyes, which spoke volumes.

“Taeyang.”

“Please, call me Baekhyun.”

“You called?” inquired Chanyeol, a pleasant smile gracing his face, “I’m a very busy man, I hope this will be worth my time.”

Something flashed in the man’s eyes, and he turned his head to the handsome man with silver-hair. “Kai,” he began, “Why don’t you and Mr Park’s lackey go for a walk?”

“ _Mr Park?_ ” demanded Sehun.

“Lackey?” inquired Chanyeol with a chuckle, reaching out to grip Sehun’s forearm soothingly, “Don’t worry, Brother, it matters not if one man refuses to use my title…” He returned his gaze to the man called Kai. “Is this the pretty one you told me about?”

Sehun’s anger dissipated instantly, replaced by a smirk, and he nodded, his playful gaze met by Kai’s unwavering glare. “Yes, this is the one. Shall we, then, Kai?” 

Kai said nothing, simply sparing a glance back to Baekhyun before walking out the door, and Sehun winked at Chanyeol before following him. Then, Chanyeol and Baekhyun were alone. 

When he turned back to the smaller man, he saw that he was staring at him. “Not what you expected?” he inquired.

“You look almost soft,” replied Baekhyun, “How deceiving in appearance…”

“At least you’re not entirely idiotic,” allowed Chanyeol, and once again, he saw the stir of anger behind Baekhyun’s eyes. 

The man turned, sauntering with strange grace to the bar, where he proceeded to begin fixing two scotches. “I asked you here to negotiate.”

Chanyeol chuckled. “If you’re under the illusion I need to negotiate with you, you’re dead wrong,” he told him, “I could snap your neck right here and walk out none-the-worse for it.”

“And another would simply rise in my place,” he countered calmly, “You think people like me come out of nowhere?”

“I’m not sure-”

“I’m you 10 years ago, kid,” chuckled Baekhyun, dropping ice into the glasses, “Except power has gone to your head and blinded you from what you were trying to do in the first place.” 

“And you would know what I was trying to do,” laughed Chanyeol, as the little rebel approached him, holding out the glass with a smile.

“Free the world.”

Chanyeol felt something stir within him. What was that… glee? Amusement? Both? He raised the glass to his lips, taking a long sip before shaking his head. “No…” He stepped forward, their height difference clearer than ever now, and he smiled down at him. A lovely, stunning smile, that didn’t quite translate into his words. “It was never about liberation. I never gave a shit about the world. I had a shitty lot, and I wanted it all to stop. History repeating itself with every new politician who thought they should sit at the top. It was boring. It didn’t work. I wanted to destroy it. It wasn’t about justice for the people, it was about revenge.”

Baekhyun stared at him expressionless during all of this, before clearing his throat slightly, and raising his glass. “That was honest of you,” he observed.

“I don’t see anything to gain from lying to you,” replied Chanyeol, “I don’t see anything to gain from talking to you either, so you’d better say something interesting before I lose my temper.”

Baekhyun tilted his head, his gaze somewhat invasive. “The poor boy sacrifices his childhood and youth for revenge, and sits atop a mountain of bodies. Did you realise that when you truly had everything, you had nothing at all?”

“Wha-”

“Think about what makes you truly happy, Park Chanyeol,” laughed Baekhyun cruelly, “Your lackey, I can tell you like him. Did you buy him, Chanyeol? Did you conquer him?”

“We met as children-”

“People are dying all around you,” said Baekhyun, his smile fading, “People are starving, too afraid to speak their minds. Rebels are born of neglect, of being ignored. You threw a glorified temper tantrum and conquered the world somehow amidst that, and now you’re still a child, holding a toy that no longer amuses you. I want you to let it go.”

“I want you to shut the fuck up, but we don’t always get what we want.”

“You do.”

“You’re right.” Chanyeol’s hands struck out, and the man was soon sent flying against the wall. “I bet they call you the Sun, and I bet you believe you’re some sort of angel sent to save the world. But they’ll turn on you the second they realise you can’t do shit. You said this was the last place I was human. You’re right. I gave up the right to be human when I decided to be king. Turns out you can’t be both, but I guess you’d understand that, right?”

“You’re not a god…” breathed Baekhyun.

Chanyeol crossed the room, and long fingers wrap around the smaller man’s neck as he slams him against the wall, the cry of pain leaving the man’s lips like music to his ears. “Everyone’s afraid of me. I am untouchable… and in the end, everyone accepts the reality that is me. Painful or not, it’s more peaceful in the long run.”

“You… hate it…” chuckled Baekhyun, despite the tightening fingers around his throat, “You hate it and you can’t go back.”

“Exactly,” said Chanyeol, smirking at the surprise clear and evident in Baekhyun’s eyes, “And I cannot go back. So what the fuck did you call me here for, hm?”

“Does your friend know?” asked Baekyun, beautiful eyes glazing over slightly, “Does he know what you did to Luhan?”

Chanyeol blinked, memories flooding back to him. Of the beautiful boy who didn’t want to do it anymore, of the way he had asked for Chanyeol to let him go, of the way Chanyeol did let him go. Let him die. 

“How did you…”

“He was _my friend too!_ ” The tears fell from the man’s eyes, and Chanyeol laughed bitterly.

“So in the end, you really are me 10 years ago,” he tutted, “I was whipped on revenge too.”

“This isn’t about revenge,” spat Baekhyun, “This is about stopping you. Luhan was right. You did become a monster.”

“I became what I needed to be,” said Chanyeol simply, “And it’s what you’re going to need to be if you want to have any hope of beating me. Can you do it, pixie? Would you throw away your humanity to win?”

“I am nothing like you,” said Baekhyun, “I’ll take you down without sacrificing a thing.”

“You won’t do a single fucking thing,” murmured Chanyeol, a rare sadistic gleam crossing his eyes, “Everyone falls in the end. Everyone bends the knee…” He pressed his lips against Baekhyun’s chastely, no intent, just a simple show of dominance. Of ownership. Because Chanyeol owned the whole world, and everyone in it.

But as he pulled away, Baekhyun reached for him.

“Hm?” asked Chanyeol, lips quirking, “Falling already?”

“Fuck me,” said Baekhyun, flatly, “Fuck me now.”

“Are you serious?” laughed Chanyeol, “You’re joking, right? This is your master plan?”

“War is your forte,” said Baekhyun, “Love is mine. Give me an hour - you’ll be on my side. _Everyone falls in the end._ ”

Chanyeol was utterly dumbfounded as Baekhyun threw his own words back at him, enough that the hand around the man’s neck was drawn back, and as he let him go, Baekhyun wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing up against him entirely.

“I’m not really gay,” said Chanyeol in amusement. This was utterly ridiculous.

“You haven’t had me,” replied Baekhyun simply. He had to give credit for confidence where it was due, that was for sure. And prettiness. The longer time spent in his presence, the more he had noticed it. Was it it the light in his eyes? That rivalled the darkness in his own? 

“Alright, pixie,” said Chanyeol quietly, “I’ll give you your hour… it’ll hurt though.”

Baekhyun smirked now, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes, and something mildly patronizing that send a whirl of fire in Chanyeol’s chest. “So? Devour me… if you think that you can stomach me.”

“... Well, I suppose you can add this to the long list of things you’re going to regret from today,” exhaled Chanyeol, and he was about to speak again when Baekhyun pushed him towards the bed. As he dropped onto the end of it, he arched a brow a the man. 

He didn’t exactly know what to expect from the man, but as Baekhyun sank onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips, he kept still, letting the little man lower his lips to his own. The first thing he thought was that Baekhyun was a very, very good kisser, and the second was that, he tasted of cinnamon and apples. Like… Christmas? The man’s hands sat at the nape of the neck, gripping him as he moved closer, pulling himself flush against Chanyeol. 

Then, something stirred in his chest. In hands that gripped the bed beside him almost defiantly... 

It was adrenaline. His lost love… brought to him by… _this man_?

Unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he’d awoken in him something that had been dormant thus far, Chanyeol pushed on his hips, but Baekhyun was miraculously strong, and a soft sound of protest was moaned against his lips in response.

Fuck… _Fuck._

Adrenaline, and now anger. This man, who disrespected him, who spoke like he knew jack shit about him and what he’d been through, was over him like he’d been sent by the gods to test him. It would be so very easy to lose…

One hand moved through Baekhyun’s soft, dark hair, and with a sharp jerk he pulled his head back, their lips broken apart. Chanyeol didn’t know how he looked in that moment, but whatever Baekhyun saw when he looked at him brought a smirk to his lips. Smug little prick. With perfect lips. Chanyeol’s eyes dropped to the man’s lips then, to the lip ring sat snug over the bottom, and one hand reached up to the chain hanging from it.

“You’re so fucked,” he muttered, and with a sharp pull, he pulled the ring clean from his lip. Baekhyun cried out in shock, and pain, as blood began to trickle down his chin enticingly, and Chanyeol felt a wave of satisfaction at the sudden alarm on the man’s pretty features. For a moment, he admired the man. His Kai had been stunning, but nothing could quite beat the allure of a person. 

“Are you still sure?” asked Chanyeol, his voice holding with it an almost bored and doubtful tone.

He pictured the man running away, and was loathe to admit the probability disappointed him a bit, but in the end, Baekhyun did not. A slow smile spread over his face.

“That was hot…” he breathed, eyes glazing over slightly.

This man was so fucking weird.

“Get the fuck off me and take off your clothes,” ordered Chanyeol, his voice low, and husky. 

Baekhyun slid off him with a chuckle, and took several slow steps back, his air of confidence returning as he made of show of licking the blood from his lip. The jacket slid from his shoulders effortlessly, and Chanyeol watched blessedly expressionless as he pulled the shirt from where it was tucked, nimble hands unbuttoning it with ease. There was something in the way he did it, in the way his fingers flicked, in his gaze, in the way he pulled it from his shoulders, revealing a surprisingly toned and muscled frame. There was something uncannily ethereal about him, Chanyeol decided. Something unfathomably beautiful. 

He felt like a 12 year old when Baekhyun’s fingers undid the clasp of his slim fitted trousers, and he blinked as he somehow lost the shoes from his feet in the way he gracefully leapt out of them. Everything about him was so strangely unexpected. Unpredictable. Perhaps that’s what it was. Perhaps that was why his heartbeat was echoing strangely in his head. He offered no subtlety as his gaze travelled lower, to where Baekhyun still wore his underwear. They were so ridiculously silken.

“All of your clothes…” The warning was there in his voice, and yet Baekhyun did not move an inch. Chanyeol slowly glared at him.

“Oh, poor King,” cooed Baekhyun, “Not used to being ignored… But if you want them off... come and take them off.” 

Chanyeol saw red, on his feet in an instant, and as he reached Baekhyun, the man _giggled._ God, he was going to lose his head when this was over. Gripping his arm tightly, he turned, throwing Baekhyun on the bed. The man moved back over the black satin sheets, spreading out like some sort of sacred whore, and Chanyeol reached down, grabbing his hips and pulling him back towards the end of the bed, fingers sliding beneath silk underwear as he pulled them off. Baekhyun moved his legs accordingly then, to help rid them of the offending article, and Chanyeol looked down.

It was not an anatomy he was familiar with. He had fucked Kyungsoo once, that was true, but they had been drunk, and neither had paid much attention - they’d just gone for it. Chanyeol hadn’t even been one for masturbation, if one could believe it. By the time he’d had any interest in sex, it was coming to him in droves. 

He didn’t even know if he really liked it, as a rule, but as he looked now, there was nothing he didn’t like. The way Baekhyun was already half hard before they’d even done anything. 

Chanyeol’s fingers moved to his hoodie, but as he did, Baekhyun shot up, grabbing his wrists. “Let me,” he murmured, a puckish gleam in his eyes.

He debated not letting him, but he’d begun this venture on curiosity, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious now. The man slowly unzipped the hoodie, pushing it back off broad shoulders, and moved to the black shirt, undoing it slowly, taking his time. Cool hands moved under the fabric as he pushed that off as well, trailing lightly over smooth skin, and Chanyeol hummed quietly, unsure of how he felt.

“Your hands are cold,” he muttered.

“Cold hands, warm heart.” The way in which he said it was almost musical.

“My hands are like fire.”

Baekhyun pulled the belt from Chanyeol’s waist, using only one hand to undo the tight jeans, and his hand instantly trailed between his legs, massaging lightly. Chanyeol let his eyelashes rest on his cheeks momentarily. Unwilling to even look at him.

“Then come, Coldheart,” murmured Baekhyun, his tone of voice almost sinful as he pulled denim over his thighs, “You’re… so big. I kind of thought you might have been compensating, but-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he asked quietly.

“Not often.” 

Chanyeol’s eyes opened now, and he kicked off his shoes, taking the socks with him. He pulled Baekhyun’s hand away, stripping the rest himself, before gripping his chin tightly.

“I’d say put a sock in it,” began Chanyeol, “but there are far better things for you to put in it, no?”

Absolutely no one, in this god given earth, should have looked as excited as Baekhyun did in that moment. The delight in his eyes was matched only by the way the man reached for his dick, taking it in hand expertly and trailing his tongue along the entire length with such an agonisingly slow pace that by the time he reached the tip, Chanyeol was entirely hard.

When Baekhyun finally began to suck, Chanyeol pressed his lips together. He was good. He was too good. How many dicks had he sucked to be this good? It would have had to have been thousands, this wasn’t-

“Fuck...” he hissed, as he found his dick suddenly snug at the back of Baekhyun’s throat. 

The man moaned around him in response, sending little vibrations echoing through him, and he sincerely hoped Baekhyun hadn’t judged him a man of great control, because he was not. Not even slightly. He was fire itself.

Regretfully, he tangled his hand in his hair once more and pulled him off. He wouldn’t have lasted long with that on the end of him. He had a mind to make Baekhyun’s blowjobs officially illegal worldwide. 

And as he threw Baekhyun back _once again_ he momentarily wondered what to do, before deciding just to follow instinct. Nipples were a safe point in every gender, and as he crawled over him, he began pressing kisses to the man’s jawline, his neck, his collarbones. His tongue trailed around one small, pink nipple, and at the man’s soft gasp, he took it between his teeth. Gently at first, and then harder, drawing a stunning cry from the man. 

He released it, and as he did so, Baekhyun’s hands tangled through fluffy red hair, pulling him up to kiss him. This was a different kiss than before. This was hot, and more tongues than lips, and bloody, and Chanyeol connected their hips, their erections pressed together as he ground into him, earning another groan. Noisy even in a situation like this, it seemed. 

“You have to stretch me,” he whispered against him, “Or you won’t fit…”

This very fact alone could have been enough to finish Chanyeol off, but he’d fucked girls anally before, he knew the deal.

But he wasn’t there to treat Baekhyun nicely. Baekhyun had asked to be fucked, and fuck him he would. Reaching up, he tapped his wet, bloody, swollen lips with two fingers. “Suck,” he ordered, “This is all you’re getting.” 

Baekhyun seemed content to obey this time, given it was in his best interests, and he took his fingers between his lips, tongue swirling around them to lather them as best he could before Chanyeol withdrew them, reaching down between his legs to find the little puckered hole he half-wished he could just rip open. Pushing one finger in, he rejoiced in the shaking of Baekhyun’s body, in the gasps of pain, and of pleasure, at being penetrated. 

He didn’t know exactly where the sweet spot was for men, if it was in the same place or somewhere else, but either way after a few moments of searching, and an added finger, his fingers grazed against it, another loud whine leaving a squirming Baekhyun, whose nails raked down his biceps at the sensation.

“Fuck me, Chanyeol,” he rasped.

“You’re not read-”

“Fuck it,” he snapped, “And me. Now. Fuck me like you hate me.”

“Like you need to ask me to.” Chanyeol withdrew his fingers, and seconds later pressed the head to Baekhyun’s entrance, pushing his way into warm tightness with a low groan. 

“Move,” hissed Baekhyun. Chanyeol needed no further prompt, drawing out to slam back in again, the movements easier with every thrust, and he began to build a rhythm. Baekhyun’s legs wrapped around him as they went, his hand scratching at his shoulders, arms, chest, back, anywhere he could reach, really. It was painful, and sharp, and Chanyeol loved it. 

They couldn’t have been more than a minute in when Baekhyun suddenly flipped them over. Chanyeol was about to protest, when the man began riding him earnestly, tighter than ever around his length as he rocked against him. He looked up at him there, at the man impaling himself like it was his salvation. 

He was beautiful.

His enemy was literally stunning.

He sat up, so that he set an arm behind him, moving up into him as Baekhyun rolled, and the smaller man’s head fell back with a loud groan, his hands reaching for his shoulders desperately.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, “You fill spaces I didn’t even know I had.”

Baekhyun talked too much, but it seemed it wasn’t always bad.

He was almost completely undone on top of him, and yet for some reason Chanyeol felt like the fucked one. Is this what he’d meant? Did everyone see Baekhyun the way Chanyeol saw him right now? Something wild, and ethereal, and puckish, and dreamlike. Like a pixie in a pocket. Like a faerie in the wood.

He hoped not. He didn’t know why, but he hoped not.

Reaching up, he wrapped his free arm up over his shoulder, so he could pull the man down harder against him. He was on fire. In a room of blue.

Baekhyun kissed him again, rolling his tongue forcefully around his own as they fought for dominance, and it had Chanyeol flipping him onto his back, his hand wrapping around his throat, pinning him there against smooth sheets as he drove into him. Again, and again, and again. Disgustingly erotic moans are silenced by fingers tightening, and with with every thrust, Baekhyun’s face grew redder, and his eyes shinier, more desperate, more helpless. 

He kissed him before he let go, initiating it himself this time, and as he did, Baekhyun’s nails returned to his back, dragging sharp red lines over his skin as he went, the sting only serving to heighten his pleasure, and fasten his pace. 

“You’re so… fucking… frustratingly… yes…” moaned Baekhyun, all breathless and whiney, “Oh fuck yes… Harder…”

“Ask nicely,” growled Chanyeol, his own quieter groans getting harder to keep down the more fucked up Baekhyun got. 

“Please,” whined Baekhyun loudly, “Faster, please…”

Chanyeol felt a wave of satisfaction, of smugness, of pleasure. There was an underlying arrogance that stemmed from the fact he was the one doing this. A hint of possessiveness he was content to pretend didn’t exist for the moment.

“Don’t stop…”

A fucking redundant request if ever there was one. Chanyeol was certain that the entire building could be up in flames in that moment, and he still probably wouldn’t stop.

He saw it now, as he leaned up so he could look at his face as he fucked him. Why he’d managed to amass such a following. He really was an angel.

Angels shouldn’t ask the Devil for sex, but there we go.

He dropped his lips to the man’s neck again, unable to hold on if he kept looking at that face, and his teeth dragged cruelly over his skin, sinking in when they reached the nape of his neck. Baekhyun near enough screamed in pain, but it was ridiculous how much pleasure was laced within it. The way he clung to Chanyeol, as though begging to be saved by the very man who was destroying him, drew a savage groan from his lips. At this very moment, he felt Baekhyun tighten.

“I’m going to…” he cried. 

Chanyeol drew back again, not wanting to miss it, and as walls tightened around him, Baekhyun cried out, face twisting in glorious release as he came all over their stomachs. At the very moment Baekhyun squealed “Inside me!” Chanyeol found his own release, thrusting his way through it as he emptied himself inside of the man, the thought of tainting him far more divine than it should have been, and as the two of them began to calm down, he collapsed on top of him, bathing in the aftershocks of their orgasms.

They lay there for several minutes before Chanyeol drew out of him, earning a pained and wistful whine from Baekhyun, who he lay next to now. He watched him breathe, watched the sweat trickle over stunning features. Bruised, cut up lips, the teeth marks, the bruises his fingers had left. 

A buzzing from his phone, however, had him sitting up immediately, and he reached for his jeans, pulling his phone out and answering it immediately, Kyungsoo’s voice clear on the other end.

_They have 11 soldiers in there._

“Kill them all,” he said lightly, “Ah, but leave the pretty one Sehun likes. I promised him he could keep him.”

_Consider it done._

Kyungsoo hung up, and Chanyeol dropped his phone back into his pocket lightly.

“I didn’t have any effect at all?”

He turned his head, finding Baekhyun now sat up, all lithe, and gleaming, and expressionless. His own cum shining against his abs. Chanyeol could not help but chuckle. 

“If fucking solved every problem the world would be a far better place,” he replied, “I’d rather say it usually _causes_ problems. It’s caused you a problem.”

Baekhyun blinked. “What?”

Chanyeol didn’t answer right away. In fact, he got entirely dressed before climbing on the edge of the bed again, and leaning over, he kissed him. He could taste the surprise on the man’s lips as he pulled back, his smirk dark. “It had _an_ effect. Just not the one you wanted.”

“What the fuck are you-”

“You could have died a hero,” laughed Chanyeol, “But you wanted to go and try another method of negotiation. And all you did was change my mind. Now you won’t get to be a martyr for your people. Now you get something much better - you get to be mine.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widened, and all the earlier submissiveness gave way to fiery hate. “You think you can take me? I don’t play by your rules, _Mr Park_ , so I’d fuck right off.”

At this, the sound of gunfire erupts in the distance, and Baekhyun quirked a brow. “I’d get going now before it gets too ugly.” 

“Sehun can take 100 of your men, nevermind 11,” he chuckled, “But I’ll go. I didn’t say I was taking you today, did I?”

He got up, sauntering towards the door, but apparently his little chatterbox wasn’t done.

“Why?”

Chanyeol looked back to him, seeing genuine confusion there, and he quirked a brow. “Because I want to.”

“Do you always just do what you want?” he demanded.

“... I haven’t wanted anything in years, beautiful,” he replied simply, “Until next time.”

He pushed open the door, stepping out, and the way the shirt brushed against his sensitive back every time he moved was electric, but nevertheless he stayed sharp as he calmly made his way through the building. 

“Yeol!”

He turned his head, smirking lightly as Sehun appeared, sporting a bloody lip.

“Had fun?” inquired Chanyeol, as they made their way out of the building. 

“Oh yes,” laughed Sehun, “The little shit suckerpunched me… I’m so soft. Did you have-holy shit, you reek of sex. What the fuck?”

“Mm.” 

“Oh so you won’t fuck me but you’ll fuck the little Dick of the Rebels?” he demanded, though there was clear jest in his voice, “Fuck me, Chanyeol, and you told me to be careful. Details, please?”

“Can we get in the car first?” sighed Chanyeol, “I’ll tell you everything… later.”

They began climbing into the car, and the second it pulled off, Sehun levelled him with his gaze again. “Does this mean we’re officially playing with them?”

“You’ll be delighted to know you were right,” he murmured lightly, “I believe we’ve found our next game. Our next conquest.” 

Sehun said nothing, but Chanyeol didn’t miss the smirk of triumph on his face as he faced forward again, and flashes of Baekhyun’s face washed through his mind. 

The Sun of the Rebels. The Archangel of the Poor. 

And soon to be _his._

Beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the [Chapter Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmOIDAa3Dy0)
> 
> May the Force be with you all.


	2. Bulls on Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekhyun and Jongin think on the aftermath of their encounter with the King and his General, and as Chanyeol and his men work quickly to discredit them, the rebels piece together their next move.

It was several hours later, that Baekhyun finally arrived back at their apartment, his bloody lip sporting a lovely set of stitches. It was clean, modern, neither extravagant, nor shabby. For what seemed like an age, Baekhyun and Jongin stood in silence, before he turned to face him.

“What happened with the lackey, are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Jongin dropped his jacket over the back of the couch before dropping down onto it with a neutral expression. “Sure,” he replied casually, “He’s psychotic, of course. I punched him. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

He might have, before, but now? “I don’t,” he confirmed, before dropping down onto the couch next to him, his body already aching. 

“He enjoyed it,” added Jongin.

“Yeah,” said Baekhyun, “... I got those vibes.”

“You had sex with him?” inquired Jongin, though his tone was rhetorical, “I take it he was unreasonable, then.”

Baekhyun stared at the wall in front of them. “It was as we feared…” he said quietly, “If ever those men were human… the time is long gone. They’re terrifyingly tripped on power. The look in his eyes...”

Jongin nodded, before tilting his head to face him slightly. “Did it work?” he asked, “Fucking him?”

He fell quiet again, before getting up, and heading to the fridge. He pulled out two beers, opening them with the corner of the counter, and only when he had sat back down again, and handed one to Jongin, did he reply. 

“I’ve fucked my way out of every situation imaginable,” he laughed bitterly, “I never once felt ashamed for it, because there’s no place for dignity and pride when innocent lives are being lost by the minute, but… I can’t flirt my way through this storm. I hoped we could, and I’d avoid having to resort to violence, but… I guess this really is war. They can’t stay.”

“Whatever it takes,” replied Jongin, his voice full of conviction, “We’re all behind you. You saved us, so we could save those who can’t save themselves. The bad guys never win, remember?”

A wave of pride, and adoration washed through Baekhyun at that. At the thought of Jongin, at the thought of all their people, believing in his cause. It was in moments like this that he knew they’d prevail. King Park’s people didn’t believe in any cause, they believed in him. But Baekhyun’s? They believed in his words. In something bigger than themselves. So fiercely that Baekhyun could have died, and it would have made no difference to their ferocity. In their determination. At least, he hoped it never would.

And at that, he felt that faint flutter of dread, the memory of Chanyeol's promise ringing loudly in his mind. “There’s something else,” he said, “But you have to keep this between the two of us.”

“Of course,” promised Jongin instantly, “What is it?”

Baekhyun took a swig of his beer, before laughing lightly. “He’s going to try and take me away.”

“Obviously,” chuckled Jongin, “To cut the head off the snake.”

“... Uhm, sure,” breezed Baekhyun, “But if it can’t be prevented, if it looks like he is going to take me, you can’t let him. Understand? He’d use me as psychological warfare. And whatever else, I am loved.”

“Unconditionally.”

“Loved, but expendable,” said Baekhyun seriously, “Cut off the head of this snake, and two new ones will arise. That’s our advantage. So if it comes to it, make of me a martyr, before he makes of me an example. Taeyang is a symbol, not a person.”

Jongin’s eyes looked strongly against this, but as usual, they settled into their usual resignation. “If it must be done,” he said quietly, “You have my word. For the greater good.”

Baekhyun smiled warmly. Jongin had always understood. Always. He was eternally dear to Baekhyun. “Where are Minseok and Jongdae anyway?” he asked suddenly, “I want Japanese food.” 

“I’ll call them,” he said, sliding his phone from his pocket, “We need to call the families of those Sehun put a bullet in, too. Fucking psychopath…”

“His name is Sehun?” asked Baekhyun, trying his best not to think too hard on the fallen. He would grieve when the war was won. People in their rebellion dropped like flies, it was something they had become tragically used to.

“Yeah,” confirmed Jongin, “Told me about eight times…”

“You should be careful,” mused Baekhyun, “Let Minseok deal with him next time. I’d like to see how their faerie fares against ours...”

“Speaking of,” he said, still typing away, “They’re on their way.”

“I want strawberries too.”

Jongin sighed, but Baekhyun knew he’d tell them to bring some in anyway. He turned his head at the sound of a purr, pulling his bright-eyed long-haired Calico cat, Jiminie, into his lap, beautiful hands carding through his soft fur rhythmically. 

“And a fucking shower…” he added beneath his breath, lips pressed softly to his kitty’s head.

 

~

 

“Oh my god, Minseok,” complained Jongdae, “I am not arguing with you over this again.”

“If that were true you wouldn’t have contradicted me,” replied Minseok calmly, “This happens every time.”

“Uhm… so boiled rice or egg-fried?” asked the now nervous girl stood behind the cashier. Sharp, cat-like eyes flashed to her, and he smiled sweetly.

“Egg-fried,” he told her, as though she were meant to know, “We’re not savages.”

“I beg to differ, but…” muttered Jongdae with a sigh, “Egg-fried it is.”

Minseok shot him a sharp look once again, and Jongdae resisted the urge to snap, but it was no use. Minseok could be rather stubborn when it came to things like this. One of the gentlest and most attentive people Jongdae knew, with the sweetest heart, but rather fearsome when it came to food. 

As they slid back into their car, Minseok dramatically inhaled the smell of the ramen, a move that had Jongdae smiling despite himself. What a fucking stupidly adorable-

“Do you think everything went okay?” wondered Minseok aloud, as Jongdae pulled off onto the road.

“I doubt it,” replied Jongdae instantly, “It’s King Cunt and his band of merry motherfuckers; but I take it they’re in one piece if all they had to say was their takeout order… it was a stupid idea in the first place. Monsters can’t be reasoned with.”

“Mm,” hummed Minseok lightly, hugging the big bag of food closer to his chest, “But I respect Hyun’s wanting to try. At least now we know there was never any other way than to spill blood.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not happy, babe,” he chuckled wryly, “We all know you were gunning for guns.”

“I was not,” protested Minseok, but with no tone of genuine annoyance in his voice.

“I love you,” he allowed, “But you’re way too trigger-happy.”

“There’s no such thing as being _too_ trigger happy,” he countered, “Besides, no one wants peace and harmony more than I. That’s why I think it’s best we just wipe them clean off the map and start anew. You agree with me.”

“You could tell me the only way to have peace was to wear periwinkle blue for the rest of my life,” he began, “And I’d probably agree with you.”

He had his eyes on the road, but he could feel Minseok’s smile, and it brought one of his own to his face. For several minutes they sat in comfortable silence, the radio playing quietly a song about new rules or something, and it was with complete randomness that Minseok broke the silence.

“When this is all over,” he said lightly, “I want 18 children.”

“Sure,” agreed Jongdae, “We’ll call them all Steven.” 

And he meant it. Mostly because he’d give Minseok whatever his heart desired, and also because when it was all over, he wasn’t sure if any of them would actually still be alive. 

 

~

 

“Fuck.”

Sehun’s breath was stolen from him yet again as Yixing dug his nails into his back, his own pace relentless as the heavy duty mahogany desk beneath them moved even still under their force. 

“Tell me again,” moaned Yixing.

“His arms were twice the size of mine,” whispered Sehun, the smirk evident across frighteningly handsome features, “He could hold you up against the wall for hours, baby…”

“I want him,” whined Yixing.

“I’ll get him for you,” chuckled Sehun, slamming into him again.

“I fucking _worship_ you…”

“Can you two hurry it up?” asked Kyungsoo, his voice quiet and calm from where he sat on the couch not four feet away, flicking through the pages of a book, “I’ve been sat here for twenty minutes now.”

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” offered Sehun, his eyes shining puckishly.

“I’ll pass,” replied Kyungsoo airily, “I just had a shower…”

“Yeah, well... give me five more minutes…”

In the end, it only took him three before Yixing came all over their chests, Sehun following soon after with a groan of release. A box of tissues collided with his head from Kyungsoo’s general direction, and few more minutes later saw them mostly redressed, Yixing opening the window to let out all the heat of their little liaison. 

“Lovely,” said Kyungsoo, dropping the book to the coffee table in front of him again as they came to sit down, “Junmyeon should be here soon to discuss the response we’re going to make.”

“You have a game plan then?” asked Sehun, as he dropped onto a couch, Yixing falling across his lap seconds later.

“Yeol and I discussed it this morning,” confirmed Kyungsoo coolly, “But we’ll wait-”

“I’m here,” announced Junmyeon, looking immaculate and fresh-faced as ever as he entered the office, his nose scrunching slightly at the obvious smell, “Jesus, you two…”

“Hey,” began Sehun, clearly about to launch into a defense.

“No,” interrupted Kyungsoo, “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“So,” said Junmyeon, dropping into an armchair, “Where’d you want me?”

“Press conference, in about an hour, before Taeyang can utter a word,” began Kyungsoo, “Junmyeon you’re going to tell them Chanyeol arranged a meeting with Taeyang, to try and find a peaceful resolve, but that it was a trap. An ambush. I’m sure you can make it sound more colourful than I can. You’ll have Sehun with you. That bruise on his face will serve the story well.”

Sehun nodded, reaching up to trail fingers over his little love tap. 

“Can do,” agreed Junmyeon, “The rebels are dangerous, untrustworthy. Can’t be reasoned or negotiated with. Tried to kill their king. That kind of thing.”

“And what about me?” asked Yixing lightly.

“You’ll be with me,” said Kyungsoo, “We’re going to start working on breaking them down. These kinds of rebellions, they’re not monarchies, they’re like webs. It won’t be simple, but it’s doable. We’ve faced far worse odds…”

Yixing scowled slightly. “Where do we begin?”

A small smile spread over Kyungsoo’s features. “Taeyang… he told Chanyeol he was friends with Luhan. So we start there.”

The name rung loud and clear in his head. _Luhan_. That little man back in the room, he had been friends with Luhan? _His_ Luhan?

Something inside him realised this entire thing was suddenly a whole lot more personal than he’d realised. More to the point, if he was friends with Luhan, why on earth was he going up against the man’s friends? The very people Luhan had _died_ for. Why hadn’t Sehun even known of the man’s existence till now?

“Sehun,” called Kyungsoo, “Game face, please. You’ve got a camera to get in front of.”

Sehun simply nodded, letting his expression fall neutral again. As Junmyeon rose to his feet again, clearly writing away in his head, Sehun rose with him, pressing lips to Yixing’s temple as he did. 

Game face on indeed, but he'd have a bone to pick with Chanyeol at some point.

 

~

 

_“Just a few hours ago, our esteemed King Park risked his life to meet with the rebel leader known as Taeyang. His goal was to negotiate peace with the man, in the hopes of protecting his people, and securing the nation. I would like to reiterate before I go any further, that King Park is **safe.** Blessedly unharmed. But it haunting to think what might have happened… You see, Taeyang had no intention of making peace. On this night, the rebels attempted to assassinate King Park, and General Oh here. Now they failed, and that is what matters, but I implore all of you to stay safe. These rebels are dangerous people, I beg of you, do not go out alone of a night, or at all if you can help it. And please, please, if you catch wind of anything, do not be afraid to inform us. Every little helps. We vow to you that we can and will protect you. As always, we are stronger together… Thank you.”_

“Fucking slug,” spat Jongdae, throwing down his chopsticks with a scowl, “I told you this might happen.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Jongin calmly, “The people aren’t afraid of us - they are…”

Baekhyun continued looking at the television calmly, as the General Suho stepped down from the stage, all charismatic smiles, and firm handshakes. He was good, the sincerity of his tone was faultless. He might have been a movie star in another life with acting abilities that honed. “People are starting to turn deaf ears to the crown,” he added calmly, “Even General Suho loses his credibility by the day…”

“Let the people be afraid,” said Minseok, shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth, “They will thank us in the end. We’re not doing this to be liked.”

Baekhyun nodded in approval at Minseok’s words, and was about to say something else when his phone began to vibrate. He tutted as he saw it was an unknown number, ignoring it, only to have the same number ring again seconds later.

“Back in a sec,” sighed Baekhyun, getting to his feet and walking into one of the bedrooms, answering, “Hello?”

_“Hello, pixie.”_

Baekhyun’s face paled at the voice on the other line. “How did you get this number?” His mind began to whirl, he’d had this line protected against all costs. How had Chanyeol dug it up so fast?

_“Does it really matter?”_

“What do you want?” demanded Baekhyun, his voice kept calm.

_“Did you see my Suho? He’s rather good, isn’t he?”_

“It doesn’t bother me,” laughed Baekhyun, “Unlike you, being liked is not actually a requirement for success. And it certainly won’t stop me.”

_“I should hope not. Or I’d be very disappointed… Do you still ache?”_

“Do you miss me that much already?” quipped Baekhyun.

_“I do… So tight, pixie. So loud…”_

Baekhyun felt a strange flush take over him, which was ridiculous, because sex was a second language to him, and this was the fucking antichrist literally mocking him. “Look,” he said quietly, “I don’t have time to sit around and listen to your stupid taunts. The next time I see you, I’ll kill you, so do us all a favour, and fuck off.”

_“Let’s see how long you can keep that fire you have for, hm?”_

“Let’s see how long you can keep that head,” he said sweetly.

_“... You’re so fucking mine, pixie. Expect the next time you see me to be soon.”_

With that, Chanyeol hung up, and Baekhyun felt a wave of dread. He was going to be hit. Turning on his heel, he stormed back into the living room. “Jongin?”

Jongin looked up, handsome features soft with confusion. “Hm?”

Baekhyun felt a swell of pity over what he was about to ask, knowing already Jongin would do it. “I need you to do something.”

“Anything.”

Baekhyun exhaled. “I need you to play footsie with the psycho general. Think you could punch him again for me?”

Jongin looked like he very much did not want to, but determined in the same stroke. “I can punch him as many times as needed.” 

“Good,” he nodded, “Because we’re gonna need some leverage.”

He lifted his hand, fingers tracing over the cruel bruises and teeth marks left by the King. Some serious leverage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter, I know, and more filler-y than anything, but all in good time, my friends!
> 
> Chapter Theme
> 
> Drinks lots of water and remember to take naps, yo.
> 
> Ciao~


	3. First and Last Of Your Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun finally gets his meeting with Jongin, Baekhyun chases down cathartic relief, and the ghost of Luhan continues to loom over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if the pacing is bad or if I need to sort my plot tf out, love you all xoxoxox

Jongin hated Baekhyun. He was sat in one of the private rooms of a club so pretentious he wouldn’t ordinarily have been seen dead in it. Fuck that, even if he would have he couldn’t have even afforded the entry fee on his own. The fact he’d handed over good money to secure one of the private lounges made him feel sick to the stomach, and to think who he was doing it for. 

Jongin loved Baekhyun. Jongin believed. Nothing less would have warranted his doing this.

He knew Oh Sehun was a regular here; PCY’s generals couldn’t breathe without the world knowing anymore, celebrities in their own right, and it worked in Jongin’s favour today, because he had told the staff that upon Sehun’s inevitable arrival, that they were to invite him here. People had stared at him, probably because of the tight leather pants Baekhyun had forced on him, and the black silk shirt Jongdae had pulled over his tight muscles. It was too small, in his opinion, but his friends had gushed, so it presumably had the desired effect. 

Jongin knew of the games Baekhyun played in order to further their cause; he had always agonised over it, despite Baekhyun not caring. Now it was his turn. And like with everything, he was ready to give it 500%. 

He looked down at the glass of expensive whisky in his hand, bringing it to his lips just as the door clicked open, and Oh Sehun entered, dressed in a sharp suit that Jongin couldn’t have afforded if he sold all his organs on the black market. The striking man made zero attempt to hide the satisfaction from his face, nor the lust, nor the smugness. Jongin wanted to punch him again, but that was jumping the gun.

“Well,” began Sehun, as the door swung shut behind him, “I can’t say I’m surprised. We do have a connection after all. Are you topping or am I?”

Jongin smiled, the expression altogether sardonic. “I didn’t come here just to fuck you, General Oh.”

“Call me Daddy.”

Jongin’s eyes flashed with fury, but he knew Sehun was deliberately winding him up, and he wasn’t about to cave in and let him ruin the plan. Sehun chuckled at his expression, before moving to sit right beside him, plucking the glass of whiskey from his hands and bringing it to his own lips.

“Alright, pretty thing,” he allowed, “What did you come here for?”

Jongin glared at him. He imagined many wouldn’t hold eye contact with Sehun for very long, his eyes held a frightful intensity, but eye contact was something Jongin had never, ever struggled with. “Taeyang asked me to,” replied Jongin bluntly, “To blur the lines of your loyalty.”

At the unbridled honestly, Sehun laughed again, his eyes slightly incredulous. “Direct, aren’t you?” he quipped playfully, “How refreshing. But I’m afraid that’s a fools errand. Your Taeyang’s idea of fucking people into submission might work on some people, but this is the wrong crowd. Unfortunately, I could be balls deep inside of you and I wouldn’t betray Chanyeol… you think too little of us; that’s your problem. Did he tell you he hopped in bed with the king?”

Jongin shrugged nonchalantly. “He does sometimes,” he replied, “No one can resist Baekhyun.”

“And people can resist you?” 

“I don’t know,” he said calmly, “I’m in the resistance for my other skills. I’ve been in it since I was 10, so… Irrelevant. Your loyalty to your king is blind.” 

“Love is blind,” said Sehun quietly, before smirking at Jongin’s disbelieving look, “Oh you thought we didn’t? No, before anything else, we are _friends_. That’s the difference between us and you. I would burn the world for them if I had to.”

“You’re a psychopath,” spat Jongin coldly.

“You’re a virgin,” replied Sehun softly, his eyes narrowing, “Aren’t you…?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” scoffed Jongin, “What does stuff like that matter in the face of justice? I’m more worried about getting food for everyone to eat, justice for everyone wronged, than who is going to suck my dick at the end of the night.”

“Your passion is beautiful,” said Sehun lightly, “And so are you…”

Jongin got to his feet. “This is pointless,” he muttered. But he had barely taken a step when a strong hand on his wrist yanked him back, and down. In the blink of an eye, he was flat against the leather couch, and Sehun was hovering over him, black hair falling delicately into his face as he did. 

“You have five seconds to get the fuck off me,” said Jongin, his voice calm.

“I wasn’t done talking,” said Sehun, and the playfulness in his voice, whilst there, was colder now, more dangerous.

“What do you want?” demanded Jongin.

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” sighed Sehun, “What do I want… the truth is, the whole lot of us haven’t wanted anything in so long… we have the world. What can one have beyond that? But you…” He reached out, running his hands through strands of silky silver. “You are stunning. You are like a glacier. Let me melt you…”

When Sehun crashed their lips together, it was a battle of determination to keep his head clear. He had shared kisses before, but none like this, none so cruel, and lustful, and heated. He had no idea how to do it, but it didn’t seem like Sehun was going to give him a drop of control anyway, so he turned his head, the lips attaching to his neck drawing a sharp hitch in his breath.

“He doesn’t care about you,” breathed Jongin, “He doesn’t care about anything. And neither do you.”

“Care to try and make me, Kai?” murmured Sehun against his neck, one hand sliding along silk-covered torso. 

He breathed heavily for a moment. “... Perhaps,” he allowed, “But not today. Let me go.”

Sehun kissed him again, and Jongin felt warning bells go off in his head, and as he pushed the man off him, his right hook slammed into the side of his jaw, whipping his head to the side.

Sehun _moaned_. “God I love it when you do that,” he breathed, that fiendish gleam in his eyes once again. Fuck. 

Jongin slid to his feet as gracefully as he could, turning around and heading for the door. He chanced a look back at the general. 

“I can call you,” guessed Sehun, his lips curving.

“If you wish,” said Jongin, breezing from the room without another word. 

Danger. Oh Sehun sang of it. He’d heard the stories and seen the aftermath. His hands had been made for killing, for destruction. How would those hands fare on himself?

He hoped he survived. 

He was prepared not to.

 

~

 

When Sehun arrived back at the Capital building, he all but tore into Yixing’s study, ignoring Kyungsoo’s glares as he smirked.

“He’s a virgin.”

Yixing’s eyes slowly widened, like a wolf who’d just spotted a little doe in the snow. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” he began, “ _How?_ ”

“He’s been a career man since birth I guess,” said Sehun, grabbing the bottle of scotch from the side with a soft exhale, “He tastes wonderful, Yixing…”

Yixing, at this point, turned to Kyungsoo to signal his leaving, and together, Sehun and Yixing left the study. “So what did he want?” asked Yixing, “And he tastes wonderful? Did you have your way with him?”

“I wish,” tutted Sehun, “I almost did… little bastard did it on purpose, I reckon… Taeyang sent him to win me over.”

Yixing laughed. “That’s not how things work,” he sang, “We’ll take Kai when and however we want to.”

“Exactly,” agreed Sehun, “But I don’t want to rush that revelation just yet… it’s so fun watching his pretty face caught between a rock and a hard place…”

“You play too many games,” chastised Yixing playfully.

“You would find me boring if I didn’t,” pointed Sehun.

“Touche,” chuckled Yixing, “... Are they all that pretty, do you think?”

“I sincerely hope so,” he replied, “Beautiful people are far more entertaining to fuck up. I want my shot at that Black Panther they’re supposed to have tucked in their back pocket.”

“Xiumin,” said Yixing quietly, coming to a halt.

Sehun turned his head, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

It had been years since he’d seen an expression like that on Yixing’s pretty features. “Don’t fight him,” he said simply, “He’s an old friend.”

“I don’t care if he’s your bloody birth mother,” said Sehun, “I’ll take his head.”

His mood now suddenly shifted, he turned to stalk away, and only when he was turning the corner at the end of the corridor, did Yixing call after him again.

“He was Luhan’s friend too, Sehunnie.”

Fuck Yixing.

 

~

 

Jongin hadn’t said much after his return, and Baekhyun had to tell himself to ignore the pang of guilt that welled up inside of him. He would have done it himself, if he could, but Oh Sehun didn’t want Baekhyun, he wanted Jongin. 

It would be worth it in the end, that’s what he told himself. 

Jongdae and Minseok had gone to the slums, for if Minseok was a bullet, Jongdae was a healthy shot of morphine to follow it. Handing out food, listening to the families there, spreading word of their promise that Park Chanyeol’s reign would end.

Park Chanyeol. It had been days, but Baekhyun still felt the ghost of him on his skin. He hated it. His lip was still healing. 

Fumbling through the kitchen, he finds his phone, dialling one of the more recent numbers.

“ _Hyun?_ ”

He smiled. “Hyung,” he replied softly, “Can you come round? I need you.”

“ _I’ve never known you to need anyone, baby, but I’ll be round in five._ ”

His hyung hung up moments later - he never did ask any questions. He always came when Baekhyun wanted him. 

A knock at the door sounded, and soft hair bounced as Baekyun raced to the door, throwing it open to reveal Lee Joon Ki, all sharp edges and striking eyes, and one hand reached out, pulling him in by the collar of his navy blue shirt, his leather jacket thrown off before the door could even swing shut. 

“Hyun,” chuckled Joon Ki, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around him as Baekhyun jumped up, legs wrapping tightly around his waist, “Are you okay?”

“Do I seem less than so?” asked Baekhyun, crashing their lips together before he could reply. 

No more than five minutes later saw Joon Ki nailing him into the mattress, hard and fast, with eye contact, just the way Baekhyun liked it. He pulled him closer, basking in the man’s scent, in his warmth. He liked having sex with Joon Ki, with friends in general. Spending days commanding legions of rebels, and nights letting go entirely without having to worry about being seen as weak. 

“You’re afraid…” panted Joon Ki between thrusts, “Talk to me, baby. Tell Hyung what’s wrong.”

“I had sex with the King and now he won’t let it go,” he whined, his hips rising to increase the impact of their hips. 

Joon Ki moaned, before letting out a soft chuckle. “Good, baby…” he breathed, “Then whilst he’s distracted by you - destroy him.”

“I knew there was some deeper reason I called you here,” laughed Baekhyun, his nails digging into the man’s back, “Harder… please…”

Joon Ki obliged, like he always did, and as the evening light trickled in through the windows into the steamy room, he allowed himself to get lost in echoes of pleasure.

Joon Ki stayed for exactly thirteen minutes afterwards. He was busy, regretfully so, but he peppered Baekhyun with kisses on his way out the door. And so Baekhyun was alone once more, aching gently, still slightly flushed in the face, and alone. He made his way into Jongin’s room, where he found his friend sat with his headphones on. Dark eyes flickered up to him.

“I love you,” he said softly, leaning his head against the frame of the door.

“I know,” said Jongin quietly, “... Love you too.”

He said no more than that, but he liked to say it sometimes. He never knew when it might be their last time. Jongin went out after that, to visit his friend Taemin, likely, in the east of the slums. Baekhyun was alone again. 

Never alone. He was never alone.

“I thought they’d never leave.”

Baekhyun’s blood ran cold, but when he turned his head, he kept his eyes calm. As they fell on the man lounged across his worn couch, he tapped his tongue against the top of his mouth. 

“Can I help you, Mr Park?” inquired Baekhyun, taking in the man’s, again, humble sense of dress. A pair of black jeans and a loose fitting black shirt over a white t-shirt. It was almost mocking. Dangerous.

Chanyeol continued scrolling through his phone idly. “You can, my little pixie,” he said airily, “I was waiting quite awhile for everyone to leave… then that other man turned up…”

“And that’s your business, why?” demanded Baekhyun playfully, “Just get out.”

“This is my house,” said Chanyeol softly, “Everything in this world is mine, I do not need your consent to be here… and as is all business. But since you asked, I’ll just say this…” He looked up from his phone now, appraising him with casually intense round eyes. “That will be the last time you call him. Do it again, and he will not make it home.”

A wave of hot anger washed through Baekhyun, and in a flash, he grabbed the gun from behind the fridge, and aimed it clean in his direction.

Chanyeol’s expression was unmoving for a moment, before a flash of indiscernible emotion shot through his gaze, and slowly, he got to his feet. Baekhyun cocked it.

“Are you going to shoot me, Pixie?” laughed Chanyeol, taking a step forward.

“Thinking about it,” allowed Baekhyun, “You think I wouldn’t? It would solve a lot of problems.”

“Would create some too,” added Chanyeol.

“I’d solve my way through it,” laughed Baekhyun, “I always do.”

Chanyeol laughed then, and the sound rippled down Baekhyun’s spine, as the man began walking towards him more purposefully now. “Oh, you won’t,” he said lightly, “And not because you don’t have it in you.”

“You’re willing to risk it?” asked Baekhyun quietly.

“I’m willing to hedge my bets,” said Chanyeol, eyes locked on his, “Because you are not no one to me, you are not one of those pesky little rats out there on the street, you, are special.”

“If you can’t compliment me without tearing down literally everyone else,” he spat, “Don’t do it at all.”

Chanyeol smiled, and it would have looked sheepish on anyone else. “I can’t help it,” he said honestly, “But what I do know…” He reached him, the gun hitting his chest softly. “Is that I conquered the world. The whole world, Byun Baekhyun, and there’s no possible way that this is the most powerful I feel, without you feeling something too.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened. There was a sickening sense of romanticism about this. A twisted honesty. “You are insane…” he whispered, “You’re truly insane…”

“Put the gun down,” he said quietly, his voice low, and husky.

“No.”

Chanyeol knocked it to the side, the gun flying from his grip and Baekhyun made to go after it, when he found himself crashed against the wall behind him, the King looming over him. Chanyeol reached down, bringing Baekhyun’s right hand up between them. He cradled it there almost intimately.

“Such stunning hands…” he observed, “I can think of much better things for them to be wrapped around...” 

“Don’t,” said Baekhyun firmly, pulling it away sharply.

“It was your idea to fuck me Baekhyun,” he reminded him, “Did you not expect this to happen?”

Baekhyun stilled. “You’re not the first to be obsessed with me, and I doubt you’ll be the last.” He looked into his eyes again. “Perhaps you’re not so special after all.”

“Your attempts to deter me have the opposite effect,” laughed Chanyeol, “I know I am extraordinary. I don’t need you to tell me that. But you… might be worthy of me yet…”

“You arrogant-”

His words were cut off by Chanyeol’s kiss, hot lips searing against his own, and he let out a helpless cry of… he didn’t even know. His wrists were brought up over his head, pressed firmly against the wall, and Chanyeol clashed their tongues together, pressing himself forward until there was no space between them at all. Fire. He was on fire. 

Until suddenly, the man was gone entirely, and by the time he regained any sense of coherence, he was in Jongdae’s arms. 

“Minseok!” he shouted, “No!”

The firmness in his voice had Minseok’s knife stopping mere inches from Chanyeol’s skull, though the cat-eyed man moved no further. “King Park…”

Chanyeol tilted his head from where he was crouched a little away, appraising Minseok fearlessly. “You must be the little hellcat, Xiumin,” he supposed.

Minseok smiled sweetly. “Indeed,” he confirmed, “You must be on your way the fuck out of here.”

“You must have a death wish.”

“Minseok,” repeated Baekhyun, “Drop the knife. Now.” His words had barely left his mouth when the knife clattered obediently to the floor. He looked to Jongdae, giving him leave to release him from the protective embrace, which the man did so reluctantly. 

“Baekhyun,” said Minseok gently, “What should we do?”

“I will show his Majesty out,” said Baekhyun calmly, tilting his head before adding dryly, “Shall we?”

Chanyeol rose to his full height, adjusting his shirt sleeves casually, before smirking and heading for the door. Raising one hand to bid them to remain where they were, Baekhyun followed him, grimacing when Chanyeol stopped in the doorway to turn back to him. “When you inevitably want to see me,” he said, “Don’t call. I won’t answer. Come and find me. Understand?”

“You’re the most arrogant piece of shit I’ve ever met,” said Baekhyun decidedly, “Don’t count on it.”

Chanyeol leaned forward, and kissed him again. Softly, coaxing, promising. Like burning embers to the fire of earlier. Baekhyun was breathless. And filled with loathing.

“You will come, pixie,” he whispered against his lips, “One way or another…”

And then, the King was gone, and Baekhyun traipsed back to the living room with a hollow sort of feeling.

“Distract him whilst I destroy him…” he said softly, echoing Joon Ki’s earlier words, “... If I want to stop… You mustn’t let me. Understand?”

“I do,” said Jongdae immediately.

“I’m not okay with this,” said Minseok, but the tone of his voice showed he wasn’t going to argue it either. Baekhyun understood, he had reason to hate Chanyeol on a very personal level. He was proud of how he’d held back. 

He turned to return to his room then, when Jongdae called after him. “Do you ever wonder about what this does to you?” he asked, “You’re our leader and you play the whore.”

“A leader has to be everything,” replied Baekhyun softly, “Whatever I’m needed to be…”

He made his way to his room, rolling into bed, wishing again that Joon Ki could just come back again, or Chanyeol, or Joon Ki. Or anyone. His head throbbed with all the thoughts that rushed through it and he cursed softly as night drew.

_You will come, Pixie…_

He closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading as usual, reviews are always welcome, smiles are too.
> 
>  
> 
> [Chapter Theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NkhiZON441M)
> 
>  
> 
> Ciao~


	4. Yes, I've Come To Burn Your Kingdom Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongin continues his fretful pursuit of General Oh, and Baekhyun decides it's time for the gloves to come off. Time to play.

Sehun walked along the boardwalk, watching as the flashing lights glittered against the starless night sky. Such a lowly little carnival, but only those with money could ever have afforded to go there. Laughter of children and lovestruck teenagers echoed around him as he continued his walk, ignoring the stares he always got. Dressed simply, but stunningly, as usual. 

One couldn’t have noticed in the night, but the sea had turned purple long ago. Pollution had cursed it. Sehun rather liked it, for its danger, and its colour. Loveliness always was toxic.

No, he decided, as his eyes fell on Kai, who was stood at the edge of the food stall looking thoroughly unexcited. Loveliness was not always toxic. There were no strings attached to this face. People were looking at him, and Kai seemed not to even notice. He was wearing a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of ripped blue jeans, and black hair fell like silk over his forehead. Stunning. 

Sehun tilted his head as he approached, and sharp eyes fell on him quickly as he neared. Always on guard. “Hello, lover,” he greeted triumphantly, “This lowkey enough for you?”

Kai scowled. “Sure,” he muttered.

Sehun’s eyes flickered to the stall beside him. “You hungry, honey?”

“I don’t need you to buy food for me,” he snapped lightly, “How long must I stay?”

Sehun resisted the urge to laugh. He was not an idiot. Taeyang had assigned Kai to use his own methodology. Seduction. And clearly Kai had never so much as smiled at someone in his entire life, and so he supposed the man was lucky Sehun found that in itself so very amusing. So fresh.

“You don’t need to stay at all,” he said softly, though his eyes held their mischief, “But you want to, I know you do. Come on, I’ll win you something at the shooting range.”

At Sehun’s gesture, Kai fell into step beside him. “Pointless,” he told him, “I’m a better shot than you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m a better shot than everyone,” he explained in a very matter-of-fact kind of way, “Xiumin is good with his hands, Chen his mind, Taeyang his words, and me with firearms. You sure you’re a war general? This is common sense kind of stuff.”

Sehun smirked slowly. “You little minx…” he muttered, “Fine, if you’re that much of a deadshot, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, hm?”

Kai’s eyes flashed again, and he shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’ll make a bet out of it,” decided Sehun, looking at him sideways, “If I win, I get seven minutes of uninterrupted heaven with you, angel. And if you win, I’ll give you an RTPS.”

He watched as Kai’s eyes widened. He had judged him a lover of gadgets, and the RTPS was a whole other story. The latest war machine they’d pumped out. A battleship, a tank, a bringer of destruction. And one in the hands of the rebellion… Chaotic, to be sure. But Sehun wasn’t really concerned about that. He no longer had the disposition for peace. And as it was, he did not think Kai could win, fun as it would be for him to.

“You’d give us an RTPS?” he repeated, “You’re serious?”

“Deadly so,” he confirmed, “I’m not a man of my word, but I always pay my debts.” 

“Deal.”

“That was fast,” chuckled Sehun.

“Just show me where it is,” he ordered, and Sehun lead the way. The range was big, clearly a favourite of the place, and several mannequins stretched far back, at several heights and positions. The operator threw them two battered rifles, and Sehun gestured to allow Kai to go first.

“Ladies first,” replied Kai bluntly.

“One day,” said Sehun, as he lined up his shot, “You’ll pay sorely for that wicked tongue of yours. Mr Operator, do us the favour of being judge, hm?”

One headshot, chest shot, crotch shot, head, head. A right hand, a left hand, an eye. As he lowered the gun, several onlookers made exclamations of approval, and Sehun smirked at Kai. “Concerned?”

Kai’s expression was as moody as ever, but his eyes were impressed, and Sehun took such a triumph in this, he was tempted to hand him the ship over anyway. But as the muscled man pushed him out the way, he blinked.

He shot the furthest mannequin in the head. Then the heads of each other others. Then he did it again.

In exactly the same spots. 

And again, and again. As Sehun blinked at the holes bored through each of the mannequin heads, he was delighted and shocked to say he was stunned. It was one thing to make headshots and another to leave the line, and return to put another bullet in exactly the same spot. So precise each time that the bullets had destroyed the mannequins in quick succession.

The operator cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, both were good, sir, but-”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Sehun shortly, “I’m not blind.”

He turned to Kai, waiting for the gloat that never came, as Kai simply blinked. “When do I get the ship?”

Sehun returned his expression. “Tomorrow morning at the latest,” he assured him, “... I imagine you fuck with precision like that, too.”

Kai frowned. “Do you ever think of anything else?”

“I’d be sad I lost my seven minutes in heaven, were that not worth it enough just to see,” he sighed, looking back to the mannequins, “You are wasted on a penniless rebellion…”

“I’d be wasted in an army that has nothing left to fight for,” he countered, and there was a slight pause, before: “Do you want your seven minutes anyway?”

Sehun blinked at him again, and for a second, he considered. This would be the moment when most declined, when they insisted the other do it because they wanted to, and not because they had a treasonous agenda.

Oh Sehun was not most people. 

“Funhouse,” he replied lightly, “Let’s go.”

He let Kai lead the way. So he could watch him, the strong way in which he walked reflecting everything else about him. Yet there was a stunning gracefulness that someone of his stature should not have been afforded. 

His heart cooled delightfully as the man disappeared into the funhouse, and he forced himself to stop for a moment, before following him inside. It was dark, with rather distorted colours, and, Sehun set the timer for exactly 7 minutes.

“Where are you?” he heard Kai calling.

“Don’t worry, pretty thing,” he chuckled, “... I’ll find you.”

And find him he did, like a fox moving in the darkness, he slammed the man against the wall. But this man was no rabbit, no, he was a deer. A beautiful doe-eyed stag Sehun very much wanted to impale himself on. 

His lips slammed against Kai’s in hot passion, and it was very clear to him almost right away that there was an unsureness to Kai’s hands, to the way he kissed. Like he knew the theory like the back of his hand but had never put anything into practise. He tasted fresh. Like mint, and cold milk, cold and sharp and soothing, and Sehun wanted to bite him. But he had to take baby steps with his bambi...

He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it out from the jeans, and deft, well-practised fingers unbuttoned them immediately. Kai’s hitching breath almost had his eyes rolling alone, but when he reached down the front of his pants to run long fingers over his bulge he exhaled into his mouth. Warm. Big. In his hands.

“God…” whispered Kai against his lips.

“Not God,” he replied with a smirk, “Just me.” His hand kneaded him there, and Kai let out a soft, deep moan that Sehun promptly swallowed, clashing their tongues together once again as he stroked him into his erection. It didn’t take long, unsurprisingly given he had likely never been touched like this before. Even more so considering they were Sehun’s hands, and Sehun was very, very good with his hands.

It was euphoric, feeling this strong, unyielding beast shiver beneath his touch. To swallow the moans that would have drawn attention if left to sing out, as he would have preferred. 

He latched onto his neck as his pants grew more haphazard, dragging painfully gentle teeth down his neck, and he hummed. “I want to keep you, pretty thing,” he murmured, “Let me keep you… Let me take you home…” 

Kai laughed around his soft moans, his hips moving to meet Sehun’s hand, the pace increasing slightly as a result. “Men like you… don’t have homes…” 

Sehun bit down sharply at the nape of his neck, drawing a gasp from the other man. “Wicked tongue…” he replied calmly, before drawing back to look him in the eye in the warped neon lights, “... But you’re right. Not anymore we don’t…” He kissed him again firmly. “Say my name.”

“Fuck off.”

“Close enough.” 

A sharp squeeze saw Kai tumbling over the edge, his face twisting in beautiful, glorious ecstasy, and Sehun did not dare to blink for fear of missing the sight. The way his brow furrowed, his hair fell over his forehead, his neck rolled back in exhaustion. He kept the man pinned there for several moments, taking out his phone from his back pocket to see that they had been there 15 minutes, not 7. But who was counting, really? Perfection couldn’t be rushed.

“Let go of me now…” breathed Kai quietly. Sehun put his phone back in his pocket, looking at him with a calmness that would have suggested they hadn’t just been going at it mere seconds ago.

“Tell me, beautiful,” he began, his hands unmoving, “Do you truly believe this will work? Do you think it will change Chanyeol to have your precious Taeyang spreading his legs for him?”

Kai’s reddened lips quirked slightly. “Chanyeol has already changed,” he said, “And they’ve barely even spoken to each other… Small change, but Taeyang has left his mark, as he always does. As for me and you… It’ll work till you get bored of me. But not everyone remains useful forever. I hope to last as long as I can. Do what I can. It’s simple faith.”

Talk of Chanyeol might have concerned Sehun if you’d have met him several years ago, but now, it was just another cog in the wheel of the world. Another path laid out.

“You don’t get it,” said Sehun softly, “But one day you will… even if your rebellion, by some miracle, won… I would not care at all. You’d better have been served targeting another General.”

“The others don’t look at me the way you do.”

“They would,” he laughed softly, “If they saw you… it’s the way everyone looks at you, after all.”

Their encounter on this day had taken so many sudden and random turns, it was hard for Sehun to keep track of where they were. It was refreshing. Everything about the man was so honest, and direct. 

“Let me go now…” repeated Kai, and this time, Sehun slowly removed his hands from him, doing up his jeans again for him before taking one step back. Kai wasted no time in turning and heading for the exit.

Sehun watched him go. “Can I have your real name?”

“It’s Jongin,” he called back, not sparing a single glance before disappearing.

Sehun thought of his face minutes before. Thought of how he might look when Sehun was inside of him. Or vice versa. 

“Jongin…” he said quietly, letting the name roll off his tongue like a soft prayer.

He felt like a volcano waking from dormancy. 

 

~

 

“He literally just _gave_ you an RTPS?” Jongdae asked, as they looked up at the tank-sized, sleek war machine before them. Small and unassuming as it was, it was the most powerful piece of large-scale weaponry to date. The Empire had thousands of them, of course, but even just one in the hands of the rebels was enough to do some pretty hefty damage. Baekhyun thought, once again, how diabolical they were.

“Yes,” said Jongin in a very calm way, “And this was before I let him lay his hands on me too.”

“Guess he really is insane,” quipped Jongdae, looking to Minseok for agreement, but finding only a quietly solemn expression on his lover’s face.

“No…” said Baekhyun quietly, “Even if it was just Oh Sehun being a whimsical prick, everything, _everything_ has to go through General Do first…”

“We’re not being taken seriously,” finished Jongin, “Like they’re throwing a dog a bone.”

They were all quiet now, looking up at the very symbol of modern capitalism, and Baekhyun reached his decision in due time. 

“We’re going to take it to some public place,” he began, “And we’re going to say it was a gift from the King to try and placate us, but we’re not here to bring violence. We’re here for peace. This gift is an insult to the entire world. And then… We destroy it.”

“We’re looking the gift horse in the mouth?” asked Minseok quickly, “We could use this.”

“Weapons are just metal and ammo,” countered Baekhyun reasonably, “But a message is priceless…”

“I agree,” nodded Jongin. 

“You always agree,” muttered Minseok. 

“Will you wear a mask?” asked Jongdae, turning his handsome face to look at Baekhyun.

“No,” he said after a mere moment’s thought, “I’m not going to make things easy for Chanyeol. I think it’s time I let the world see my face.”

“Shall I call Taeyeon?” offered Minseok, “For your makeup.”

“No,” replied Baekhyun, adjusting the sleeves of his black jumper, “I’m not going to wear any makeup. I’m not going to do my hair. It’s important I am the picture of honesty, no matter how baby-faced I am. The rest of you can do as you wish.”

“I don’t see this ending well…” muttered Jongdae.

“When do any of our plans ever end well?” chuckled Minseok.

~

Only several hours later saw them standing in the Parmavilion, vile war machine at their back. The Parmavilion was the epicentre of all activity. The new Times or Trafalgar Square. And as predicted, there were many people there. Most of whom looked alarmed men out of uniform were parading around with an RTPS. They waited, and sure enough, a camera or two began to appear. Jongdae had contacted the new stations then. Good. Nodding to his inner circle to join him, he climbed the sleek machine, and slowly the other rebels followed, scaling the sides of it, standing anywhere they could. 

“Do you have the mic?” asked Baekhyun, ignoring the sharp bite of cold so high up on cool metal, and Jongin, who looked the picture of striking, handing it to him. 

Baekhyun probably looked unimpressive. All soft hair, and baby-faced. Probably looked like a sixteen year old school child. Or so he thought, anyway. Or so he hoped.

He put on the headset, and moments later his voice was amplified.

“Citizens of the world,” he called out, “I hope, that if you are not here standing with us now, you are watching… My name is Taeyang. You may or may not have heard my name spoken, but I no longer wish to hide from you. Today is the day we erase the lines of distance. Because when all is said and done, I am you. And we fight _for_ you. _With_ you. For your freedom…”

He stopped for a brief moment, realising for the first time he’d come out into the open. Eyes were on him now. The world was watching.

“What we stand upon as we speak is a symbol of the opposite,” he continued, his voice graver than before, “A machine so powerful it could level entire cities. A machine _designed_ to ‘control’ humanity. If we say the wrong thing, or drift from the lanes and boxes we’re forced into, these machines are here to silence us. To erase our colours. To imprison us in our own homes. On our own land. In our own bodies… This machine is a mark of tyranny… And King Chanyeol and his generals gifted this to us in an attempt to appease us… as though we want anything to do with the violence that comes to them so naturally. As though the very sight of this barbaric contraption doesn’t sicken us to our stomachs. Are these the actions of benevolent rulers? You have heard many things about the Resistance, about me, but let me tell you this - we do _not_ strike! Our hands are the hands that heal. And if we are to break, we will break chains, not nations. And together we’ll free the world so that your children never have to remember what it was like living as we live now… It starts today. Join us. Let us break our chains right here and now!”

Baekhyun nodded to Minseok, who shot the electrics just as Baekhyun took the axe offered by one of their younger rebels. He smashed through the glass panel at the very top, for show more than anything, and at once they all began to trickle off the machine again. Spotting Jongin on the ground again, Baekhyun dropped from the machine and into his arms right as the machine began malfunctioning, and falling apart. He nodded to the rebels, encouraging them to continue destroying what they could now he was sure it would not explode, and injure anyone. The fire that erupted was strangely gentle. The Parmavilion eerily quiet. As though shocked, as though hallowed. Baekhyun never wavered in his resolve or beliefs, but something about saying the truth aloud, and knowing a substantial amount of people had seen, and would still see it yet, was infinitely cathartic. Though not quite satisfying. Satisfaction was reserved for success. 

“Do you think you’ll be in danger now?” asked Jongin lightly.

“More than I already was?” asked Baekhyun lightly, “Probably. But it doesn’t matter. We have everything we need already; there’s no need to wait.”

“Taeyang! Taeyang!” 

Baekhyun turned his face from the growing fires right as the flash of a camera nearly blinded him, and he blinked effervescently against the sensation. 

“Taeyang!” the voice called again, and a reporter was suddenly in front of him, eyes wide with excitement, “Taeyang, you’ve never before shown your face, but it would appear you’ve essentially just declared war, no?”

Baekhyun disliked the idea of journalism, but he couldn’t fault its usefulness. And this time, it’d work in his favour. Besides, Jongin stood firmly at his shoulder was always reassuring. “Not war,” he countered calmly, “We’re not going to war with the Chanyeol administration. It’s an end. We’re stopping it. A war suggests they have a chance of succeeding against us.”

“You sound confident,” laughed the reporter.

“We have something worth fighting for,” explained Baekhyun casually, “Each other. For those who can’t fight for themselves. It makes all the difference in the world.”

“Fascinating,” quipped the reporter uselessly.

“I have to go,” said Baekhyun abruptly, itching to get out of there again.

“One last thing!” insisted the reporter, “I’m sure people would love to know - do you have anything you’d like to say to His Majesty the King?”

Baekhyun blinked, though kept the surprise from his face. He paused for a moment, before looking towards the camera at the man’s shoulder. “Nothing at all. I don’t particularly care for the man, I just want that self-proclaimed crown off his head so that people can resume living their lives.”

Baekhyun tore his eyes away then, and Jongin’s hand on his shoulder soon managed to direct him out of the ensuing chaos that was beginning to erupt in the Parmavilion as it continued to be bathed in the warm glow of the fire. 

 

~

 

Do Kyungsoo was a clever man. Everyone had always said so. A quiet and thoughtful child, and a quiet and somewhat less thoughtful adult by the end of it all. He had given up finding enjoyment in the world long ago; now, he made his peace in doing things well. He was rather good at strategy - at winning wars, the big and small. He was a rather good cook as well, and indulged in the practise often. Such as now, surrounded by a person, though it wasn’t always obvious, loved very dearly.

Taeyang was not a genius. No, there was nothing quick or sharp about that fresh-faced man’s mind, Kyungsoo was confident of that. But you didn’t need to be all that clever to make a stamp on the world, and Taeyang was a prime example of that. Perhaps he held something in him Kyungsoo didn’t have, for all the cleverness of him. Something quite like what Chanyeol himself had. 

People would not quickly forget that stunt in the square, not anytime soon. It didn’t matter how quickly Kyungsoo had the situation under wraps - people had seen and heard that man, and it was going to be a bigger hit than they usually would take. He wasn’t worried too much, but he did wish Chanyeol would be a bit more… concerned. And less smitten.

Though as he looked at the tall man now, where he sat doing a poor job of peeling apples, he presumed his wish would likely go ungranted.

“Can we talk about Taeyang?” asked Kyungsoo, bluntly.

“Direct as always,” quipped Chanyeol, his lips quirking slightly.

“I see no point in speaking otherwise,” agreed Kyungsoo, “So in terms of Taeyang, I’ve been thinking over our current strategy.”

“And?”

He did not hesitate to give his reply, his hands chopping vegetables rhythmically. “I don’t think we need to make an example of him as you planned,” he continued, “It could be mistaken for mercy. The sooner we kill them, the more people will think they were idle trivialities to us.”

“You’re not wrong,” allowed Chanyeol, “Only… that’s boring.”

Kyungsoo’s knife stilled for a beat, before continuing, and he ignored the sharpness of the anger in his chest. “You forfeited your right to games when you took on the responsibility of 7 billion people.”

“That’s when I gained the right, brother,” laughed Chanyeol lightly, “Besides… I wouldn’t lead you all into this if I thought it really mattered. We can afford this game - we built this empire so that it could not simply fall at the drop of a pin. Taeyang does not know nearly enough to constitute being a threat. No matter how many cheesy temper tantrums he throws in public…”

“I trust you,” he said, and in a simple breath he changed topics, “Sehun is avoiding you.”

“I am aware,” tutted Chanyeol, “I have a feeling they’ll try to use Luhan to turn him against me. Taeyang and Luhan were apparently friends…”

Kyungsoo pursed his full lips slightly. “I do not think that it would make much of a difference - Sehun doesn’t care enough about anything anymore to be really mad at you.”

“Who knows,” supposed Chanyeol, “Maybe it’ll awaken something in him again, even if it is hate.”

“Soldiers die in war,” murmured Kyungsoo, “Sehun didn’t handle losing Luhan quite as well as Junmyeon did losing Yifan, but I suppose it could not be helped.”

“Angry or not,” said Chanyeol with an air of finality, “Sehun will never turn against me. There is not a thing in the world that could cause it.”

Kyungsoo threw the vegetables into a pan, before approaching and taking the apples from Chanyeol. Two sets of soulful dark eyes met, then.

“He is not the prettiest man in the world,” he told him quietly, “Only you would go and get doe-eyed over the most inappropriate person possible.”

Chanyeol smiled, and Kyungsoo could not help but return it. Chanyeol didn’t reply to that, but he laughed, and Kyungsoo returned to the hob, his quarters soon filling with the smell of delicious food and music, from the gentle strings of Chanyeol’s guitar.

~

_Bright eyes. Soft lips that tickled ever so gently every time he pressed them against his fingers. That laugh. That pretty, pretty face._

_“Do you love me, Luhan?” he would ask, and so very often._

_“Of course, Hyun,” the reply would come instantly, “I always will.”_

_I always will. I always will._

_**I always will.** _

 

~

“Remind me again why this is, in any way, a good idea?” inquired Minseok as he trailed after Baekhyun down the high street. Everything was disgustingly expensive here, but you didn’t have to pay to walk down it.

“Colour me curious,” replied Baekhyun airily.

“I feel like we’re spending too long poking sleeping dragons and not enough time actually rebelling,” mumbled Minseok.

“This is rebelling, brother,” laughed Baekhyun, “Believe me, if we had the fire power I’d just as soon stomp on them and go from there, but we need underhanded tactics.”

“But using Luhan…”

“They killed Luhan,” said Baekhyun, the seriousness eeking into his voice now, “Not us. He’s not the only life they’ve taken, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them ignore it. They think Luhan was ever theirs to kill.”

“But it was years since we’d seen him when he died.” Baekhyun did not miss the shot of insecurity in his friend’s voice at this, and he stopped in his tracks, turning to the cat-eyed man with doeful eyes. Minseok had been particularly close to Luhan, perhaps even more than Baekhyun had been, he couldn’t tell. It had hurt when he left them, but it had hurt even more to know that prior to his death all he’d wanted was to come back to them. Reaching down he took Minseok’s hands within his own, before bringing them up to rest on the lapels of the worn and old jacket. 

“He left this to us,” he told him softly, “He left everything to us, including his final message… In the end, he knew just who his real family was. He will always be ours, Minseok.” 

“But he was that man’s too,” warned Minseok, “That Oh Sehun. He took everything from us before, what makes you think it won’t happen again.”

Baekhyun smiled. “I don’t think Sehun had even the slightest hand in Luhan’s death,” he said quietly, “His mind has never been his own; and if you’re gonna destroy lives properly… you need to know you’re doing it… Wanna go poke at the snake then?”

Minseok smiled, all eye-smiley and cute, and Baekhyun softened. The game continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there was an absence of Chanbaek in this chapter, but that's for good reason, don't worry, they'll be back at it again soon ;) 
> 
> Love you all, thank you for reading! 
> 
> [Chapter Theme Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJL5SE1i0u4)


	5. Run To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baekhyun and Xiumin venture on a (terribly executed) mission to cause strife, but whose court is the ball really in?

When Baekhyun and Minseok arrived at the Capital building, they were thoroughly searched. It was annoying, and several minutes into this search someone recognised them, and then it all kicked off.

“Look if this was an attack don’t you think we’d have brought a gun?” complained Minseok, as he was manhandled to the ground and handcuffed. Baekhyun found himself the recipient of one of Minseok’s famous death glares. “I hate you.”

Baekhyun grimaced apologetically, before realising that this was actually probably the easiest way to get access to Sehun. So it was, that they were thrust into the elevator for the long ascent.

The higher floors were exceptionally more extravagant than the lower ones, and as Baekhyun was pulled along the corridors towards god knows where, it was hard not to gawk at all the dark wood. Someone clearly had smokey tastes. The guards pushed open a door, and Baekhyun could have laughed in amusement at seeing General Do sat behind a desk. Wrong general, but interesting nonetheless.

Cold, big eyes fell on them, and equally calm fingers raise to dismiss the guards, leaving Baekhyun and Minseok stood cuffed, and alone.

General Do continued scribbling in a file for several moments, before dropping his pen and appraising them once again, with blatant disinterest. “So…” he said blankly, “... Byun Baekhyun and… co…” He tilted his head slightly. “What is it you want? Another ship? After you rudely destroyed the first one, I would have to refuse.”

“I’m not here for one of your weapons,” said Baekhyun calmly.

“The King’s dick, then.”

Baekhyun felt a wave of anger, but then it was gone. He had never been offended by stuff like that before, so it made no sense that he should now, when all was said and done. He smirked slightly, an amused breath leaving him. “I’m here for the other dick,” he said simply, “Oh Sehun. He has gotten to my Kai. I have a bone to pick with him.”

A complete lie, of course, but if Sehun had even the slightest inkling that he’d had an effect on Jongin, then he would certainly want to hear all about it. 

“... Very well,” said Do, idly. He raised his fingers, and a single click saw the cuffs falling from their wrists. Minseok instantly looked more comfortable with his hands free. He pressed a button beneath his desk then.

_Soo?_

Baekhyun’s eyes narrowed at the sound of the voice.

“Sehun,” said Do lightly, “Taeyang and-” He looked at Minseok briefly. “-the Black Panther, are here. Something about having bones to pick after you boned that one you’ve been harking on about for weeks.”

_News of my pretty thing? Excellent. I’ll be down in three._

Do leaned back then, and for exactly three minutes, none of them did anything at all. Until the door swung open, and the lithe and handsome Sehun sauntered inside, his eyes sparkling with intrigue.

“What did I do?” he asked happily.

“Nothing,” said Baekhyun bluntly, coming to rest an arm on Minseok’s shoulder, “I just wanted to see you. Can’t I miss you too?”

Sehun narrowed his eyes. “Careful, handsome,” he said huskily, “Or me and Chanyeol might just have to fall out…”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes before tapping Minseok on the chest. “This is Xiumin,” he introduced.

Sehun’s eyes sparkled again at that. “Ah… we finally meet, Hellcat.”

Minseok said nothing, and so Baekhyun laughed. “He just wanted to tell you something,” he explained, “So we’ll say it, and then we’ll go.”

Minseok moved then, with all the grace and beauty of a panther, and he stopped mere inches away from Sehun, who was considerably taller. Not that it made Minseok’s presence any less threatening.

Minseok smiled. “Luhan is mine,” he said, “He was always ours.”

Sehun’s expression froze where it was. “Excuse me?”

“If he had any true care for you at all,” said Minseok softly, “He would have left you something more than just memories… He left us everything. Including his final message. To us? He said goodbye.” 

Sehun stepped back slightly, almost to get a better view of the man who was saying these things to him. Baekhyun smiled. Minseok could be supremely nasty when it suited him.

Baekhyun rolled one of his shoulders back, before clearing his throat. “Come on now, Xiumin,” he called, “He doesn’t care about that anymore. He didn’t even notice the jacket.”

Sehun’s eyes locked on him then, and if Baekhyun had more sense, he would have been scared, but the second Minseok was by his side, he turned to leave, making a calm but quick exit. Out of sight, they all but hurtled into the elevator. For at least thirty seconds, they both said nothing.

“I feel bad,” said Minseok, annoyance flashing over his face, “I feel bad.”

In a way, so did Baekhyun, but then he thought of all the people Sehun had killed for fun, and he felt a little better about being petty. That hadn’t been aimless. They had to unravel them. It would pay off.

Baekhyun realised that he was, in fact, a complete idiot, when the elevator shaft screeched to a violent halt, knocking them both to the floor with the force of it.

“What the fuck?” demanded Minseok.

“Oh shit,” muttered Baekhyun, “I thought they’d let us walk out again…”

“I told you this was a shit idea,” sighed Minseok, and it said a lot about them and their cause that neither panicked. Just another day in the life. “Let’s escape from the Capital building I guess.”

“We have no weapons,” said Baekhyun lightly, “The odds?”

“... Eh,” shrugged Minseok, “I like them. I still have claws, and… teeth, worse comes to worst.”

The elevator began to jerk again, and this time, it was going up, not down. They were being taken back up. 

“Fantastic,” grumbled Baekhyun, rubbing his neck slightly. 

“If it’s Sehun,” said Minseok, “Which it is, let’s be honest, I’ll take him.”

Baekhyun pursed his lips. “We could always bargain with the jacket.”

“We’re placing a lot of faith in Sehun’s probably dead heart if we do that,” laughed Minseok, “Just let me kill him?”

“Oh do what you want,” sighed Baekhyun, “I’ll get the signal out.” 

The doors opened, and for the first time, there was no trace of anything in Sehun’s expression. Hell hath no fury… 

Minseok shot out, colliding with the man instantly, and in the distraction, Baekhyun hit the elevator button again. The faster he got to the roof, the faster he’d get the signal out, and the faster he could get Minseok out of Sehun’s clutches. 

He got out at the top floor, which was eerily quiet, and shot down the hallway, his eyes searching for access to the roof, which he realised with a snarl did not exist. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the fire extinguisher and hurled it through one of the large pane windows, gasping at the strong wind being up so high brought upon him. Biting his lip, he climbed out, and began to climb up. Not an easy feet giving the only slight ridges between panes of glass. Delicate hands slam against the wall at the top, and he hoists himself over it, dropping to his knees with a gasp. 

When he looked up, he was surprised at what he saw.

It was a garden, but not like the ones he’d ever seen in fairytale books. Everything was the wrong colour, the leaves were blacks and greys, and the flower heads were too vibrant. It was ugly, and eclectic, and he hated it. Why would someone make this? 

He turned around, taking off his watch, and turning its dial, he began programming it to send the distress signal.

“Are you a dream, Pixie?”

He spun, eyes still with alarm as he found Chanyeol stood in the centre of the garden, by the running stream of glowing red. He was wearing a tailored black suit today, and his hair was pushed back, and Baekhyun had never seen him dressed so formally. 

“Let me go,” warned Baekhyun, “Let Xiumin go.”

Chanyeol’s big eyes flashed with confusion, before understanding dawned on him. “Ah,” he said, nodding once, “You and your over-excited hellcat decided to just… attack head on? Just the two of you? I can’t help but think that was a bad plan.”

“We didn’t attack,” shot Baekhyun, “Your precious lackey has no self control.”

Chanyeol smirked. “Did you come here just to upset him?”

“... I suppose,” said Baekhyun, “It worked a little better than we anticipated.” An idea struck him then, as he stared at the man several feet away from him. “Let Xiumin go.”

“And why would I do that?” asked Chanyeol casually.

Baekhyun turned again, stepping up onto the ledge lightly, and he inhaled, his breath stolen by the wind again. He looked back then, so his back was against the oblivion. “Let him go, or I will fall back… wade into the quiet of the stream…”

Chanyeol’s eyes flashed immediately with amusement, and he chuckled, the sound deep, and Baekhyun was glad he could not hear very well in that moment. “Oh no,” he disagreed, “I’m going to let your kitten go, and you’re going to pay very dearly for having brought him here in the first place.”

“You have to catch me first,” sang Baekhyun, feeling suddenly childish, and amused.

“Very well,” said Chanyeol, taking out his phone, and holding it to his ear, “... Sehun. No. Have him thrown out… I will sort it... Now.” 

Chanyeol dropped the phone back into his inside pocket before taking several steps towards Baekhyun. “Now get down from there…”

He wasn’t entirely sure why, maybe just because it was funny, maybe because he half wanted to, but Baekhyun took a step back towards the edge. As predicted, Chanyeol shot forward, his hand gripping Luhan’s jacket, and Baekhyun was jerked violently into his arms.

Chanyeol’s hand was around his throat within seconds.

“What the fuck was that?” demanded Chanyeol calmly, his eyes two orbs of anger.

Baekhyun laughed, the sound strained beneath strong fingers constricting him. “I knew you’d catch me,” he said, “Most likely. Come on… lighten up.”

Chanyeol looked at him, clearly still confused, and Baekhyun was confused himself. He knew himself well, he had to, to be who he was, but when he was around the King, he did not understand a single one of his actions. Was he…

Nervous?

For a moment, they just looked at each other, and then in a flash their lips collided, and Baekyun nearly keeled over at how quickly Chanyeol had him completely shirtless. He undressed himself the rest of the way, his mind on one single track now, and like before, Chanyeol’s touch was like fire. Cold hands, big and tight against his hips and though he doubted he’d have time to undress the other man, he made short work of his blazer, and his tie. 

Then Chanyeol dropped to his knees, right there in the middle of the garden, and Baekhyun dropped, naked, into his lap, their lips connected yet again. Baekhyun moaned as Chanyeol pulled their hips together, a wave of arousal washing over him. The other was already hard, and Baekhyun was getting harder with every laboured second that Chanyeol wasn’t inside of him. 

He reached down, deft fingers freeing Chanyeol’s erection, so that it slid up against his own, and he felt as Chanyeol’s chest vibrated over the sensation. In a split second, the man had spun Baekhyun around, so that his back was pressed against his chest, and a rather sudden kiss was pressed against his spine as Chanyeol entered him. 

He’d almost forgotten how big he was.

One hand remained locked on Baekhyun’s waist as Chanyeol began moving up into him, and mere seconds later saw Baekhyun coming down to meet him. The other hand kept moving, over his abs, his chest, until it came to rest against Baekhyun’s throat, though it was more of a secure hold than a tight one. 

Baekhyun reached back, his hand tangling through dark hair, and the other rested against Chanyeol’s clothed thigh, his nails digging in with every thrust.

“ _Baekhyun…_ ”

Baekhyun’s breathing became thinner at this, and he wasn’t sure why. Something about the way the man whispered his name, like a prayer to the night sky above them, had him shivering. This was unfamiliar to him, and it felt ominous. 

“Please don’t… say my name…” he panted, his voice thin with desperation and arousal.

“... _Baekhyun…_ ”

No.

No this wasn’t right, he didn’t like this. He didn’t like how it rippled through him, or how he wanted to hear it again. And again. And again.

“Stop it,” he begged.

He should have known better than to mention it in the first place. Chanyeol drew out of him, and just like that, Baekhyun was on his back, and Chanyeol was driving into him again, pulling his legs to lock tightly around his waist as he drilled into him. He rested his forehead against Baekhyun’s, his eyes boring into his. Eye contact. Baekhyun’s kryptonite.

“ _Baekhyun…_ ” 

Horror flashed through him now, as he looked up at the light amusement, but utter seriousness in Chanyeol’s eyes, that were inches from his own. 

Park Chanyeol was beautiful.

In his fear over the unknown, he brought the man down to kiss him again, silencing his verbal assault with violent teeth, and Chanyeol melted into him, their movements becoming more in sync than ever as sharp nails dragged their way over him again. 

He did not know this man. So how was it that a stranger could do this to him? 

What did it mean?

He clamped down, and Chanyeol’s moan was apparently all it took for Baekhyun to lose control, reaching his climax with a strained cry, and Chanyeol was soon to follow, his weight resting on Baekhyun for several moments afterwards.

He was worn down, and he never wanted this man to get off him again.

“Get off me,” he whispered, “Get off me, now.”

Chanyeol drew back slightly to furrow his brow, and he was probably wondering why Baekhyun was suddenly changing his tune given he’d vowed to do just this in the first place. But in this moment, it wasn’t a game for Baekhyun. He felt unsafe, and unstable, and he needed to get away from the man making him feel so. 

He wriggled out from under him, jumping to his feet and scrambling into his clothes.

“Baekhyun…”

He ignored him, pulling on his jeans, shaking hands fiddling with the zipper.

“ _Baekhyun._ ” 

“ _Stop saying my name!_ ” He regretted it the instance he shouted. Why was he showing weakness in front of this man? Why was he falling apart so fast? So easily?

A hand on his shoulder tugged sharply, and Baekhyun was once again face to face with a dishevelled, but altogether collected Chanyeol, and Baekhyun waited in agony for him to make some witty comment, or threat, or gloat.

“It’s alright,” said Chanyeol, one hand resting gently beneath Baekhyun’s chin, “... I feel it too.”

_I feel it too._

He bolted, pushing open the door and descending back into the building again. Pulling Luhan’s jacket back on, he made his way down, and he was surprised, but not ungrateful, that not a single person stopped him from leaving. When he found Minseok sitting in a panic in his car, he got in calmly, and neither of them said a word.

He berated himself. He shouldn’t have panicked so much. It changed nothing.

Baekhyun was falling for his worst enemy.

A side effect, he told himself, and something that could be ignored. It might even work in his favour.

“Are you alright, Hyun?” asked Minseok quietly, after a while.

He nodded, turning the radio on, and smiling. 

_But in all the world, There is one lover worthy of her, With as many souls claimed as she..._

__

__

_But for all he's worth, He still shatters always on her earth, The cause of every tear she'd ever weep..._

“I want this to all be over quickly,” said Baekhyun softly.

Minseok’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “I think this is the home stretch… don’t you?”

Baekhyun turned his head to look at him, and lovely hands reached out to tug on Minseok’s ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

~

 

_“Where could he possibly be?” Sehun’s brow was furrowed as he looked down at the faded maps before him, and he shook his head._

_“Does it matter?” inquired Luhan, from where he lay sprawling across the couch._

_Sehun fixed him with a confused look. “Of course it does,” he bit, lightly, “The cunt left us a note saying goodbye and fucked off. He gave up on us. He’s a defector.”_

_“I didn’t realise we did that kind of thing,” said Luhan lightly, “Can’t we just let him go? He’s not just a random foot soldier, he’s Tao.”_

_“Exactly,” replied Sehun impatiently, “Which makes it worse. We promised to stay together, Luhan. We clearly mean nothing to him.”_

_“I don’t think that’s it,” muttered Luhan, “I think we mean a great deal to him.”_

_“If you’re not going to help,” began Sehun, “Stop chatting shit and go to bed or something.”_

_“Mm,” hummed Luhan, seemingly apathetic, “I’ll do that.”_

_As the smaller boy rolled up onto his feet, Sehun closed his eyes, catching Luhan’s arm as he made to walk past him. Luhan looked at him, and Sehun thought perhaps he was just sad. It made him hate Tao even more. Tao had put this expression on Luhan’s face._

_He leaned in, kissing him softly, and despite the older one’s bad mood, he returned Sehun’s kiss with a sweetness that Sehun would, though he didn’t know this then, never know again._

_“I love you,” promised Sehun, “I’ll never leave you.”_

_“Oh I don’t doubt that, Hunnie,” said Luhan with a sad smile, “Goodnight…”_

_Right before Luhan turned to go to bed, he was suddenly covered in blood. Sehun reached for him, but as he did so, Luhan was ripped from his grasp._

_“Just forget me,” whispered Luhan, “Forget it all.”_

_**Forget it all.**_

Sehun woke with a gasp, his eyes wide with alarm, and he looked beside him, his hands reaching instinctively for Yixing, though the man wasn’t there. Still working most likely. 

His vision was blurred with the shock of his dream, Tao and Luhan’s faces swimming before him interchangeably. He couldn’t stay in bed. 

Throwing the covers back, he pulled on a pair of cotton lounge pants before storming out and making for one of the drawing rooms. Chanyeol was in there, but Sehun ignored him, heading for the liquor cabinet, where he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and fucked the glass off. He was drinking from the bottle tonight.

“Same nightmare?” inquired Chanyeol casually from where he was sat on the couch, nursing a glass of what looked like absinthe.

“Mm,” confirmed Sehun with a nod, dropping into an armchair with a deep exhale.

For several minutes, the two sat in comfortable silence, each focusing their energies on either their respective drinks, or staring at the walls in front of them.

“Thank you for letting the Hellcat go,” said Chanyeol finally, “I know he’d have poked you a lot.”

“Luhan never mentioned him,” muttered Sehun.

“I looked into it for you,” replied Chanyeol, “Luhan knew him well. They grew up together. All Luhan’s things… we looked for months, but it seems Taeyang had it all.”

“Did he love me?”

Chanyeol looked slowly over to Sehun before nodding. “Yes,” he said, and the conviction in his voice was unmistakable, “He loved you. Whatever else we never knew, his love was true. I saw it in his eyes.”

“That’s why he died,” said Sehun quietly, his eyes glazing over, “That’s why he died, and that’s why you let him.” 

Chanyeol closed his eyes slowly. “He loved us, and I loved him. And I would wish no one on this earth to stay if they no longer wanted to be here. He could not leave us, and he could not stay, either. I understood that, in the end.”

“Did you think I would not?”

They stared at each other, and then, Chanyeol smiled. “Do you?”

Sehun laughed, the sound dark and bitter. “No,” he relented, “I never understood why Tao left, either. Luhan did.”

“He was too wise, and too clever, to be able to stand with us forever,” agreed Chanyeol, “And back then, I did not understand his love for you. I have never been in love. How do you know when you feel it?”

“I suppose,” said Sehun quietly, “In the way you change. Not for them, but because of them.”

Chanyeol took a long sip of his drink. “All I loved… I loved alone,” he said, his voice deep, and resigned, “And all that lost in an instant. The fun of the game dwindles, brother.”

“But we can’t stop,” said Sehun, “What else do we have anymore? I don't know what I am anymore, Yeol, but I know I want this man. Dead, alive, mine. Jongin... We cannot stop.”

“You’re right… we cannot stop.”

And as they sat there, knowing they were inevitably walking to their own heartbreak, there was a moment of quiet clarity, in which the two saw each other, wholly, for exactly who they were. Two men who, like young boys, were royally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the pace seems a little fast, it's because it's more of an explosive story at the beginning and then the ashes will fall. I wonder how our ragtag group of idiots are going to handle everything happening to them, hm? Can there be any winners?

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Here's a little guide to the sides of the lines everyone is on:
> 
>  **PCY’s Generals:** Sehun, D.O., Suho, Lay 
> 
> **BBH’s Generals:** Kai, Xiumin, Chen


End file.
